


No More Words

by cvioleta



Series: Metamorphosis [3]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Alternate History, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Harley isn't crazy, Light Dom/sub, Romance, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvioleta/pseuds/cvioleta
Summary: Part 3 in the series which starts withEverything She Wantsand continued withOff the RailsThe inevitable freak out from the Joker because catching feelings is scarier for him than catching the Ebola virus; plus lots of complications from an old enemy of his who shows up intent to wipe the smile off his face.  You wanted excitement, Harleen…Lots of additional backstory on the Joker in this one, OOC and consistent with the other 2 stories.





	1. Chapter 1

                It was Monday morning and Harleen was back at her desk at Arkham doing a bang-up job of pretending nothing had happened. It was weird how she could almost convince herself.  Her other life might not be far away in terms of mileage, but it might as well be another dimension.  Now she was back in what she thought of as the real world – her hair up in a bun, glasses on, lab coat over a turtleneck sweater that hid the bite marks on her neck, a decent length pencil skirt and Gucci heels. She had tried that morning to put on her old pumps, but honestly, they hurt.  It was just too tempting to slip her feet into the butter-soft leather of her new designer shoes.

                She scooted her chair back from her desk so she could look at them again.  They were elegant black leather stilettos with a wavy edge around which wrapped a red, white and black snake, his tongue licking toward her toes.  The Joker had loved them.   They really were sexy as fuck, she thought. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn them to work but she didn’t really care if people talked. Her engagement ring had been gone for weeks and no one had the guts to ask her about it.  The tennis bracelet remained on her left wrist, where it had sparkled since the day she received it. 

                _Property of the Joker,_ she thought. _And none of them have any idea._   She wished she could keep it that way, but she knew it was only a matter of time before everybody here knew what she had become.

                _I’ve become a lot more productive, actually,_ she thought, flipping through her stack of perfectly prepared reports on all of her patients. Turned out it was a lot easier to focus at work when she was living out her fantasies, not just obsessing over them.  It was vaguely disturbing how she wasn’t upset over the murders she had witnessed.  It just seemed…unreal.  Like a movie she had been watching.  Harleen looked at the clock and realized any further self-analysis would have to wait.  She picked up her files and obediently headed off to her staff meeting. 

* * *

                Back at his apartment, the Joker was pacing and fidgeting, annoyed with himself for doing so. He had sent her back to work but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.  Of course he was watching her through the many hacked security cameras at Arkham, just as he had done ever since he escaped, so it wasn’t like there would be anything he didn’t know about, but she was still too far away. He felt like his hands were itching with the need to touch her, and it was only Monday. He hadn’t planned on picking her up again until Friday.

 _Don’t want her to get the idea she lives here,_ he thought.  _I’ve got business to attend to._

He didn’t need her, he needed to get his head straight and think about his agenda for the week. 

                He continued to pace back and forth, irritated that he still wanted her.  He really had thought a few days of having her around and he would be sated, that he was just thirsty and needed a good long drink, but if anything, having her around made him want her around more.   She was so different from other women.  They all obeyed him in bed; most were a little scared of him.  She obeyed him but she obeyed him because she reveled in the obedience, not because she was scared what would happen if she did not.  She was a true submissive who loved to be controlled and the rougher he got, the happier she was. How she had stayed with that boring cardboard yuppie as long as she had was beyond him. _Must have been faking it the whole time_ , he thought.  But out of bed, she had her own opinions about everything.  It _should_ have irritated him more than it did.  He was confused by his own lack of desire to smack her across the face when she talked back. 

                Well that was fucking awesome.  It’d be a great idea to pair himself up with someone who had a mind of her own. That was gonna work out great in a gunfight.

 _Except her instincts in a gunfight had been perfect_ , he reminded himself.  She hadn’t hesitated to save his life, never stopping to think that the gun might be turned on her instead. 

                She loved him, which was…bizarre. It was not something he had anticipated, this combination of absolute love and absolute loyalty.  He almost wished she’d screw up now that she was away from him. Screw up and give him a reason to end her, end _this._ This thing that was making him anxious.  This insatiable craving for her that didn’t go away. As much as he’d banged her in the last three days, it should have been over.  People were tools to him, always had been. They shot people for him, they protected him, or they fucked him and it was never hard for him to end their lives when they stopped being useful, or bored him, or talked back.  And the more they were around, the more likely that point would come quickly. 

                But not her.  He had always been able to indulge in any drug without becoming addicted; something in his body chemistry, he guessed.  Now, he felt like he understood addiction. The more he took, the more he wanted. 

                Until he could fix that flaw in himself, he would concentrate on ensuring his drug had no power to leave him. Fortunately, he knew exactly how to accomplish that goal. 


	2. Chapter 2

              Her doctor was lost in her own thoughts today and Selina noticed.

              “Is breaking me out _that_ depressing, or are you sad about losing this gig?”  She laughed, knowing that neither explanation fit, but she wanted to find out what was going on.  Selina had come to see Harleen as a friend and given that she knew she was involved with the Joker, they’d be seeing a lot of each other.  They had planned Selina's escape for the end of the week, and Selina was getting excited. She couldn't wait to be back on the streets, making up for lost time.

              Harleen shook her head.  “I want to help you. I’m just – I’m – I don’t know what happens next. After you’re out, I mean.”  She got up and paced back and forth a bit before stopping and looking at her.  “There’s no way to do this and look like I wasn’t involved.”

              “No,” Selina agreed.  “But we do this a lot, Harleen. We’re pretty good at it by now.  You’re not going to get carted off by the police.  We’re not _amateurs_.”  

                _In fact_ , Selina thought, _this will go easier than most because there's no chance of bat interference_.  It had always amused her how often Batman's superpowers seemed to fail him when she was involved.  Oh, he would chase her all over the city and make a show of trying to stop her crimes, but he would always be a little too slow to stop her from escaping wherever they had her imprisoned. 

              “I know that part.”  She sat back down across from Selina.  “But I won’t be able to come back here.  I’m sure I’ll lose my medical license.  I won’t be able to go back to my apartment.  I guess what’s bothering me is I’m being asked to make the choice when I don't really know where I stand.  There’s no going back, but what am I choosing going forward?”

              Selina tilted her head, considering.  “I could teach you to steal. You’re as athletic as I am, you’re pretty enough to charm your way in and out of places. You’d never have to worry about money, whether or not the Joker felt like sharing what he has.  I get that you don’t want to be dependent upon him.  That’s smart.” 

              Harleen looked relieved.  “I know I shouldn’t be enthusiastic about that offer, but I am.  He already has too much power over me already. I can’t add financial power to the list.” She sighed.  “I hope I never have to walk away, I don’t think I’d ever get over it.  But being in a position where I can’t scares me more.”

              “That’s settled then. We're out of here Friday and Monday I’ll start training you. You can be my little sidekick for a while. I’m stealing you from J!”  Selina laughed at the prospect. The Joker would hate it but it made so much sense he wouldn’t be able to argue with it, either.  There weren’t a lot of job openings for a psychiatrist in Gotham’s criminal underworld.  Harleen was going to have to master a new skill set to be of any use, and Selina had no doubt she’d excel in it. Secretly, she hoped that Harleen would get over this silly crush on the Joker and decide to go out on her own. But she knew her friend would have to learn the hard way.  

* * *

              Harleen walked idly around her apartment, waiting for the microwave to finish heating up her dinner.  It looked just like she had left it.  She started to collect up all the old pictures of herself with Ben and his family.  Mr. J wouldn’t like it if he came here and saw them. 

              Her voice mail was full of messages she was ignoring from all-too-familiar numbers.  Ben, his mom, several of her friends.  There wasn’t anything she could say to any of them.  _Sorry,_ she thought, _but Harleen died. Harley Quinn killed her._

              That thought made her pause for a second, but it was true. Dr. Quinzel had become nothing more than a role she was capable of playing.  She would play her as long as she needed to, but deep down, she was already much more Harley Quinn than Harleen Quinzel.  And that's why this all felt so weird and wrong.  Harley Quinn was walking around Harleen Quinzel's apartment, sneering at her boring life.  Harleen had loved this place;  Harley found it nauseatingly pedestrian - and of course it was lacking the most important thing, the cackling laugh of the Joker, the shining metallic green of his hair, the smell of his skin.  She had never felt lonely when she was alone here before -- she had always felt relieved to be alone, to have peace and quiet away from people.

              _Now there's someone I actually miss_ , she thought. It was a new feeling and she wasn't sure she liked it.  

              Taking her tray, she sat down on the couch and flipped the television on.  She kept looking at her phone but there were no texts, and no gifts had shown up in her office or at her apartment. 

_It hasn’t even been 24 hours. Are you 13?_

_You could text him._

_Oh, hell no._

She frowned, annoyed with her own thoughts. This was not going to be easy – _shocker!_ interjected Logical Harleen – he was what he was, he didn’t have relationships, he had no _idea_ how to behave or he didn’t care (more likely the latter).  He knew she would come when he called, like an obedient dog.

              Harleen knew that wasn’t the smartest idea.  He was going to get bored.  Any guy would.  This was all psychology 101 stuff.  Men did like the thrill of the chase. When you sat at their feet wagging your tail, there was nothing to chase.  On top of that, he was a narcissist which multiplied that quality by about 100 times.  _Oh, and by the way, Harleen, Harley, whoever you are – you can’t have an intimate relationship with a narcissist. They’re not capable. Remember, you’re a doctor? You’re an expert on these things?_

 _It’s not like I’m there,_ she thought.

 _You’re not there because he basically kicked you out,_ Logical Harleen reminded her.  _You got sent home like a hooker he was done with for the weekend._ The only reason she knew she was going to see him again was that she had a job to do, and he expected her to complete it.  

              She tried to watch TV for a while and distract herself, but her mind kept working and it always ended up in the same place.

_What if you do his bidding, break Selina out and give up your whole life for him, and he’s bored in a week?   What if you walk away from this an emotional basket case with a criminal record?  You’re going to wind up living in a refrigerator box down at the docks._

              Harleen sighed. It was going to be a long week…a very long week. 

* * *

                The Four Seasons was the most elegant hotel in downtown Gotham. It rose 50 stories into the sky, and had an incredibly elegant penthouse at the top, the kind of place that was made for those who never had to think about money. Roberto Cassarino had been holed up there since his arrival a week ago.  It was the perfect base of operations, with fast wifi, excellent food and a concierge that couldn’t jump fast enough to get him anything he needed.  The luxury was enough to make up for the many years he had done without; and there was no reason he needed to be frugal.  He mentally patted himself on the back; it was good to be back in the States and very good to be back with a fat bank account and the resources to accomplish anything. 

                It was time to settle some long-overdue scores.

                He looked up at the sound of the card in the lock and saw his assistant Jacob entering, a file of papers in his hand.

                “Did you find him?” he barked.

                Jacob nodded.  “He has two main residences within the city.  I’ve got details on both.  He owns five clubs, some comedy, some strippers, and visits them all on a regular basis. Pretty hands-on with management.  Of course he’s still in the, uh, the transportation business and doing very well.”

                Roberto made a disparaging noise.  “He has me to thank. I taught him everything, ungrateful wretch.”

                “I did see something that surprised me,” Jacob added.  “A woman left his place too early on Monday morning for it to be business.  Blonde, very pretty.  She didn’t go far. She lives here in the city.”

                Now _that_ was interesting. He’d been keeping tabs on Joe for 18 years now, long before he was The Joker, and he had never seen him show an emotion other than avarice or rage.  It wasn't just that he chose not to have personal relationships; it was that he wasn’t capable of having them.  He had been broken too early by the constant bullying of his classmates, combined with his incredibly unstable home situation.   The combination of a genius IQ and the amoral, narcissistic thinking created by his violent and unpleasant childhood had created an extremely effective instrument of destruction. It had _not_ created a human being with any real emotions or a desire to bond with others.  Joe romantically involved with a woman?  It had to be an act. She had to be a tool he needed for something.  Just as he had once pretended to respect and look up to Roberto.  

                “Don’t stand there,” Roberto commanded. “Get back out there and come back with everything you can find out about who she is and how they know each other.”

                “Yes, sir.”  Jacob put the file on the Joker down on Roberto’s desk and headed back out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Harley's last day of work at Arkham and the Joker is going to make _absolutely_ sure any misgivings she may have won't get the better of her. Hmmm, what to call this...sort of prelude to smut.

Harley was typing up a report on her session with Angela Frame that morning. This patient was her most difficult to treat because Harley realized she related to her too much. Frame had fallen in love with a charismatic cult leader, David Rappaport, who convinced her to join in on his successful plot to assassinate the mayor 32 years ago.  She had been here at Arkham ever since, as she would not admit that what she did was wrong, and she had refused to testify against her boyfriend, who had been set free as a result and promptly disappeared.  Despite not receiving a single letter from Rappaport in 30 years, Frame still loved him and believed they would be together again one day.

                _Patient continues to display an unhealthy attachment to her ex-boyfriend_ , Harley typed.  _Fantasizes he loves her too, despite all evidence to the contrary.  Delusional._

                _Gosh, who does that sound like?_   Frame was Logical Harleen’s favorite patient. Every time Harley had to treat her, Harleen popped up with an endless parade of snide comments. _Day five and not a word!  He’s probably back with whatever stripper he was fucking before you.  But don’t worry – he might need you to take a bullet for him this weekend, so I’m sure he’ll call._

                _Shut the fuck up_ , Harley thought. _I’m trying to work_.

                _Why?  You’re not going to have a job tomorrow.  You’re only working so that you don’t look at your phone_ , Harleen pointed out.  _There’s nothing there, just like the last 493 times you looked_.

                As if on cue, the phone vibrated and Harley grabbed for it.  She had a text.

                **Good morning** , said the Joker.

                Harley squealed, then looked around to make sure no one had heard her.  Fortunately, she had closed the door of her office to work.

                **It is now** , she responded.

                _Oh fuck me, that was too eager_ , she thought.  But she knew he was smiling. She could _feel_ it. 

                **You haven’t forgotten about me?**

                _As if that were possible, she thought._ **You leave quite an impression. I still have bruises.**

**Send me a pic.**

She giggled, despite herself. Harley arranged her hand on her desk and pushed her sleeve up, revealing the purple bruising on her wrist underneath the diamond bracelet he’d given her.  _That should appeal to his sense of the aesthetic_ , she thought, and snapped and sent the picture.

                **Purple is my favorite color,** he responded.  **Where else?**

Oh, he was going to push it, wasn’t he? Well, of course he was…he was the Joker.  Making sure she didn’t hear any steps approaching her office, she unbuttoned the top  of her blouse and tapped on the phone, angling it down to give him a lovely view of the green and purple marks that dotted her breasts and disappeared under her lacy red bra.  After a couple tries to get the perfect angle, she sent the picture.  She felt like she was tingling all over, why, why, why was this so exciting?  And then that ever-present voice inside of her piped up.   _If you had any self-respect, you’d be angry after five days._ Harley Quinn imagined how much fun it would be to duct tape Harleen Quinzel’s mouth shut.    

                The phone buzzed. 

                **Mmmm.  I think there may be some more….lower?**

 **I’m in the office!** She responded.

                **Was that a no?**

 _Shit,_ she thought. Well, at least she was wearing a thong today, but the offices here didn’t lock – for safety reasons, of course – so anything she did was a gamble.  She thought about walking into the ladies’ room and hiding in a stall but he’d think less of her if she did that.  He loved seeing her do what scared her. Totally got off on it. 

                Harley stood up and put one foot on the radiator by her window.  She could see people down in the exercise yard below, but they were _probably_ too far away to see anything.  She flipped up her skirt and snapped a couple pictures of the colorful bruises on her ass.  The line of her red thong cut through them as if someone had sliced her with a knife – oh, he’d _like_ that.  Jesus, she was so wet that the thong was stained dark between her legs in the pictures.  How had she turned into a nymphomaniac in a week?  She sent the best picture, aware that her hands were shaking. 

                **God, you’re so fucking hot,** he responded.  She shivered all over at the praise. 

                **All yours, Puddin.** She knew she was. He might as well have it stamped on her body.  She was going to blow up her entire life for him tonight, and she couldn’t wait to do it.

                **I can’t wait to taste you.**

Harley shuddered, put her hands over her face and leaned her elbows on her desk.  It was 2 o’clock. She had 10 hours to wait before he was coming to get her and Selina. This was going to be the longest day of her life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selina thought this was going to be easy, but when is anything easy when the Joker is involved?

Harley sat in her car in the Arkham parking lot, waiting.  He’d told her that all she had to do was get him and the boys in through the gate, and her job was done.  Easy enough, right?

                _Nothing is ever easy around him._

She waited, watching for the lights of an approaching car.  There were two guards in the diagonal towers tonight, which she had already advised Mr. J. about.   They’d have to be taken down first.  If she hadn’t been an accomplice to murder last weekend, she would definitely be tonight. 

                It was unsettling how it didn’t bother her.  Harley had been deliberately avoiding the hard conversation she needed to have with herself about what exactly she had turned out to be. A number of diagnoses came to mind and she didn’t like any of them, but the reality was inescapable.  She had one priority now – keeping Mr. J. happy.  She couldn’t and wouldn’t walk away.  Keeping Mr. J. happy meant participating in his crimes, up to and including the murder of innocent people. 

What would an ethical person do in this situation, a moral person, she wondered? Kill herself? Well, she didn’t want to do that, either.  He had been a killer before her, it wasn’t like he was killing any more or less since they’d met.  _Well, Kevin was because of me,_ she thought, _but that didn’t even count as murder. That was more like capital punishment.  Completely earned._

                And tonight was about getting Selina out.  It wasn’t the time to be lost in her thoughts, so as she had been doing all week, she stuffed those musings into a small compartment in her brain and locked them up to sort out later.

                The lights were coming.  She realized she was holding her breath.

                The van pulled in beside her and she saw Jonny at the wheel.  Harley got out just as the rear door opened.  She was pulled inside by her wrist and there he was, in yet another shirt that didn’t close, underneath a long purple leather jacket.  He always took her breath away.  But he was all business at the moment, handing her – a baseball bat?  Looked like it, but heavier than that.

                “You don’t shoot yet so I’m giving you something I _think_ you can handle.”

                He sounded skeptical and she was annoyed.  “Good.”

                “Don’t be snippy, Princess,” he chuckled. “I haven’t taught you to shoot and I’m not giving you a gun until I know you won’t shoot me in the head.”

                “So, never?” she quipped.

                It took him a second and then he really laughed.  She smiled in relief; she’d made the right choice. Every conversation with him was a fucking chess game but she was getting better at it. 

                “Come on,” he swept out of the van, pulling her behind him.  “Let’s get this over with.”  His men followed and she heard the gunfire behind her as they took out the two guards in the towers, but she didn’t look back.  Harley swiped everybody through the double gate and let the Joker walk into Arkham first. She heard the guard behind the main desk get as far as “Hey, you-“ before she heard the gunfire and his body dropping. 

                _Hiding behind the Joker will not work,_ Logical Harleen scolded.  _You’re going to be on all the cameras anyway. Just own it. Own your bad choices, Princess._

                They headed down to Selina’s cell block.  Harley stayed in the middle of the pack, as protected as she could be. Fortunately there weren’t a lot of guards on duty at this time of night, but of course when one popped up – it was one that she knew. Horton.  The one who had nearly walked in on her and the Joker having sex in the break room at Arkham. 

                He saw her too, and his eyes widened to see who she was with.  He looked…disappointed?  Betrayed? Or just too shocked to even process?  He was dead before she had finished her thought.  She swiped them through the sliding doors to Selina’s cell.  They didn’t have the keys for the cell but one of the guys had some kind of a rotary saw that made quick work of the door. 

                Selina had been waiting and she stepped out gracefully, throwing her arms up in the air to stretch as soon as she was in the corridor.  “Ah, freedom.  Thank you, J.”  She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. He rolled his eyes, but was amused to see Harley looking distinctly irritated behind Selina.  He’d have to file _that_ away; pitting those two against each other could make for some grade A entertainment the next time he was bored. 

                Harley’s irritation turned to confusion as three of the Joker’s men dropped to the ground. 

                _What?_

_Holy shit!_

There had to be twenty guards that appeared out of nowhere.  Had someone known they were coming?  The Joker pulled out two guns and started shooting with both hands.  Harley ducked behind Jonny, who had been the first to see them and start shooting back; Jonny missed very little. 

                They were badly outnumbered; they had come in with six henchmen and were quickly down to one other than Jonny that were left standing.  The Joker was laughing, even as bullets barely missed him. Selina had practically teleported down the corridor and flattened a few guards in the process, springing off the cage bars and kicking them in the chest or head.  Jonny or the Joker shot them when they hit the floor. 

                Jonny had gotten into a hand to hand fight with a guard after both were left without their weapons in the melee, and Harley watched, impressed as he broke the man’s neck with his bare hands. Just then the last remaining henchman dropped in front of her and she was staring at a guard with a gun.  Her instincts kicked in and she rushed him, kneeing him in the groin.  He crumpled over in pain and she attacked him with her bat, swinging it into the back of his head with a satisfying crunch.  He fell and she whacked him a couple more times for good measure.  As she hit him the fourth time, she realized it was the only sound in the room.

                Everybody else was dead, or dying – and they weren’t.  She turned to see Mr. J. grinning at her with absolute delight written all over his face.  _The pride!_  Her face lit up despite her weak knees. He slid his gun inside his jacket and pulled her tightly to him with one arm.  The lust she had been feeling all day rushed back into her, making her hot and desperate.  His lips collided with hers and his tongue was in her mouth and she couldn’t think anymore.  Harley grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck and clutched it with her hand, trying to bring him even closer.  She felt him laugh into her mouth and his hand went straight down the front of her shirt and around her breast, making her shiver. 

                Dimly, she heard Selina make some sort of remark that ended with “throw up.” The Joker finally pulled away from her.  He pulled out a knife and bent down, neatly separating the guard's Arkham Asylum patch from his uniform and handed it to her.  “A trophy from your first kill!  Come on, darling.  It’s time to go home.”  

                _Home_.   Harley could have started skipping but she controlled herself.  They followed Selina and Jonny, who had quite a head start going, back out to the cold night and the waiting car. She thought that the alarms going off sounded like music.  And best of all, she couldn’t hear Harleen anymore. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All right, smut lovers. I wrote your smut today. :-) Oh, and there's a bit of foreshadowing of the story to come so don't worry if you're confused, it'll all be explained down the road.
> 
> The Joker and Harley return home after breaking Selina out of Arkham, and it turns out he has some interesting ideas about how to celebrate tonight's accomplishments.

                They couldn’t stop laughing.

                Harley knew it was a mix of adrenaline and shock for her.  She knew it wasn’t funny that she’d just committed murder, but the look on that guard’s face when she rushed him was _hilarious._ He didn’t expect it from her, he thought she was just another dumb cupcake. They all thought that, when you were a cute little blonde thing.

                Only the Joker hadn’t made that mistake. _He always knew,_ she realized.  _He knew who I was and what I was capable of._ The thought that he was the one man in her life who hadn’t underestimated and patronized her made her love him even more.

                He didn’t bother to turn on the light when they came through the door.  Just kicked the door shut again with a foot and picked her up and set her on the kitchen counter.  She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.  Harley loved the low, evil chuckle she got in response.  

                “I don’t even know what I want to do with you _first,_ ” he whispered in her ear.  “There are just too many _options_ and I like _all_ of them.”  

                The Joker knew what he _wanted_ to do but he also knew he would control himself.  He’d had plenty of time to think about the consequences of keeping her around.  Harley wasn’t the only one who had made a big choice tonight knowing there was no going back.  She lived here now.  He had a girlfriend.  First time ever.  And if he was going to cross that line, he was going to damn well make sure he trained her properly and didn’t end up like every other guy he saw, pathetically begging for sex and jumping through a million hoops to make some piece of ass happy.

 _She_ would be the one doing the begging.  He smiled at his own thoughts as he put his hands on her waist and pulled her back to the ground. 

                “Go in the bedroom. Take your clothes off.  Blindfold yourself with a scarf.  Lie down, and wait for me,” he instructed.  She looked at him questioningly for a second, then thought better of it and obediently headed into the bedroom. 

 _Good girl,_ he thought.  He walked over to the bar and made himself a drink, sipping it slowly as he reflected on the evening.  He’d known she had it in her but he thought it was going to take longer to bring it out.  She was sitting in her office practicing psychiatry like a good little slave to capitalism this _morning_ , but put a bat in her hand and she didn’t hesitate to kill. It was fucking fascinating, and just confirmed what he’d always seen with those in the military. It didn’t matter the country, it didn’t matter the ideology. If you were around people who were telling you that killing was not only the right thing to do, but a necessary thing that would bring you praise and admiration – you’d kill.  He had seen it time and time again.  Morality was always situational. 

                The Joker had always been good at manipulating people.  It was one reason he was still alive despite being thrown into the most dangerous of jobs at age nine.  But the interesting thing about Harley was that he didn’t really have to.  He had just uncovered her – pushed her in the right direction, stripped off the need for social graces and correct behavior – praised her when she started to cross the line last weekend – and the next thing he knew, she was beating a man to death. 

                She had joked tonight about how he would never be sure she wouldn’t shoot him. _She_ thought it was a joke.  He knew it was not.  She might.  She was _capable_ of it.  The thought would make most men nervous but it just made him want her more. And by now, she was in his bed – naked and waiting.

                He made himself wait another five minutes, slowly sipping his whiskey and rolling the ice around in his mouth. Then he headed into the bedroom, walking as quietly as he could on the carpet. 

                Harley was exactly as he’d requested, lying on her back on the bed, blindfolded with a scarf. The moonlight was coming in through the French doors and she looked like a statue.  He stopped to admire the view, then stepped over to his closet to pull out a couple of his favorite ties. She hadn’t heard him yet, he noticed.  _Perfect._

                When he grabbed her ankle, she bolted upright and squeaked in surprise.  He laughed and gave her a rough push that landed her shoulders back on the bed. 

                “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, sounding shaky. That was to be expected – it had been quite a night.

                “Don’t move unless I tell you to move,” he said quietly.  He was binding her ankles to the bedposts and a moment later he moved up to tie her hands as well.  She bit her lip, nervous despite herself.  She had never let anyone – _but he wasn’t anyone_.  She would let him do as he pleased; they both knew it and the only question was, which one of them was more turned on by that fact?

                She couldn’t see him but she could feel him hovering above her on the bed, the weight of his knees between her spread legs – but he was so careful not to touch her at all.  Harley bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to wait patiently.  Then she felt something wet circling around her right nipple, but it wasn’t his tongue. It was wet and…cold.  Ice, she decided.  First around one breast and then the other.  She had been wet before he ever walked into the room but now she could actually feel her pulse throb between her legs.  Her nipples were so hard it was becoming uncomfortable and she arched her back, straining toward the contact. 

                He responded by pressing the ice down on one nipple and holding it there. She felt the sensation travel down through her stomach and her entire body jerked, her ankles and wrists pulling uselessly against the restraints.  He chuckled, that low, maddening laugh she always heard when he was amused by her responses.  It was too much, too intense, but she said nothing, balancing on an invisible line between wishing he would stop and being terrified that he might. 

                And then it was gone again.  She heard the clink of ice in a glass and a moment later, felt the drip of cold water on her flat, bare stomach.  He was tracing lines across it with the ice, angling diagonally downward toward her sex but never going quite that far.  She couldn’t stay still; she squirmed and shuddered and his laughter seemed to go right through her. 

 _Add to the list of my newly discovered kinks:  J’s laugh,_ she thought.  Jesus. His voice was like a sex toy in its own right; it could do things to her no other man had ever come close to with mouth, hands or cock. 

                He touched the ice to her clit and she gasped, trying to squeeze her legs together, but of course she could not; the ties around her ankles held firm.  She knew he enjoyed it when she struggled; she could feel the heat radiating off his body every time he came near her.  He removed the ice and she felt his hot breath on her cleft, making her twitch and moan out loud.  Suddenly she was much wetter than she had been, even though he wouldn’t touch her with anything but the ice; the bed grew wet underneath her and she felt the cold on her buttocks as moisture quickly cooled on the sheets.  He returned to tracing the ice across her body, this time up and down the inside of one thigh.  She trembled all over but refused to speak.

 _He wants me to beg. I won’t. I can take it,_ she thought. She had done enough begging last weekend, she’d given him too much control, she was going to do better tonight…

                Suddenly, she felt his fingers and the ice was inside of her and his mouth was on her, that impossibly long tongue roughly licking around her clit.  The combination of sensations was beyond too much; she made a strangled sound halfway between a moan and a gasp and thrashed against the restraints but he only increased the pressure of his tongue, working her into a frenzy as she tried to pull herself free.  She felt him suck her clit into his mouth and she came so hard that she felt like she might pass out. He just kept sucking and wouldn’t let her come down from it, wouldn’t let her rest.  He bit down lightly, and she cried out as she came again, feeling her orgasm travel through her bound limbs as he licked her.  Then his mouth was gone and a second later it was on hers. He kissed her deeply and she swirled her tongue around his, tasting herself on him.  He slid two long fingers into her and she arched her back, trying to drive them in deeper.  

                Harley broke the kiss.  “Untie me,” she whispered. “I’ll make it worth your while.”  She was dying to claw at his back, to clutch at his hair as he moved his fingers in and out of her. 

                “A tempting offer but no.  Maybe when I’m done with you.”

                “Wh-when will that be?”

                “Hmmmm…I think we killed 18 guards tonight…I think we should honor them properly.”  His fingers found the sweet spot inside of her and rubbed back and forth.  She pressed herself against his hand as hard as she could and he settled his full weight on her to keep her still.  She felt herself swell and tighten around his fingers, holding them in a tight grip, and the last of her resolve to remain quiet left her.

                “Oh God…God that feels so good!” she cried out.

                “You don’t have to call me God when we’re alone.” He couldn’t resist the old joke and it was worth it to see her laughing between her gasps and moans.  _The hottest thing I’ve ever seen,_ he thought.

                He sped up the action, sweeping his fingertips back and forth inside her and bending down to bite her neck.  That was it; he felt her contracting around his fingers and she gushed all over his hand.  She buried her face in his shoulder to muffle the incoherent sounds coming from low in her throat.  Harley went limp and he kissed her, sliding the blindfold up and off her face as he did so. 

                “I’ve never…that was amazing,” So _much for not flattering him, done, over,_ she would just have to find some way to be harder to get in another area of their life.   

                He stroked her hair, pushing it back behind her ear so he could whisper into it, as he had done back in Arkham.  The thought made him smile.  Oh, she had turned out exactly as he had planned, and this was only the beginning. 

                “Three down,” he whispered.

                It took her a second and then her mouth dropped open.

                “I don’t think that’s – I don’t think that’s possible.”

                He rolled his eyes.  “You’re with me.  _Anything_ …is possible.”   He slid his hand down and placed the flat of his palm between her legs, moving it in slow circles.  She was so wet that everything was just sliding against everything else; the motion was moving her swollen clit against her equally wet lips and it was delicious and frustrating and then he started to press four fingers rhythmically against her opening.  She couldn’t do anything but throw her head back and moan. 

                “Please…I want you inside of me,” she begged.

                “Maybe if you…earn it.”  His hand sped up but he went no further.  “Cum for me, baby.”  He only had to say it and she was over the edge, even more of her fluids gushing out over his fingers.  _How much can there possibly be?_ she thought dimly.  She had read about this but hadn’t known she was capable of it until tonight.  She was wet, she was limp, and he wouldn’t stop, he was touching her again and moving his mouth down her body to suck on a nipple. 

                And he _wouldn’t stop_.  He’d change what he was doing, he’d focus his attention somewhere a little different but it didn’t matter what he did, it wasn’t long before she was peaking again and of course he was just laughing at how easy it was for him to make it happen. Nothing could have fed his ego more, and she just got more and more unable to think, more of a mess, incoherent.  She was getting sore, she needed to stop but it was still too good, the pleasure washing over her like a wave and never really ending. 

                He finally paused and she realized he was down by her ankles, loosening the ties before crawling back up to the headboard and pulling her hands free. 

                “I _may_ have gotten distracted and lost count,” he whispered in her ear, “but that was eighteen or nineteen.”

                “Twenty…twenty for sure.  Do I get extra credit?”

                “Oh, you get anything you want,” he purred.  He moved over her again and she could feel him, hard as a rock, sliding in between her legs, making her shiver again.  He was smiling in the dark, the moonlight coming through the window glinting off his silver grill.

                “I _want_ you inside of me right now, you miserable…fucking…tease.” 

                He cackled at the desperation in her voice as he slid himself back and forth, teasing her more.  Harley was done waiting. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his cock, maneuvering him inside of her and wrapping her legs around him in a vise grip so he couldn’t pull away.   Not that he wanted to.  He was hard as a rock after watching her cum again and again and it felt incredible finally burying himself inside her.  He thrust his entire length into her and she cried out from the pleasure, driving her hips forward to meet him again and again.  The noises she made were driving him crazier than he already was.  She raked her nails across his ass and bit his shoulder and he felt her start to contract around him.  The feeling drove him over the edge and he kissed her, growling into her mouth as he came. It seemed to last forever and he collapsed on top of her when it was over, still inside her.

                He realized dimly that he was kissing her tenderly.  _What the fuck are you doing?_   He had no idea. This was not part of the plan but he wanted to do it and it felt so fucking good just kissing her and looking into her eyes.  And the look in her eyes could only be described as worship.  Who could blame him for wanting to prolong the experience just a few minutes more?   He shifted to the side and his leg hit cold, wet bed.  It snapped him out of it and he stood up. 

                “Where are you going?”  she asked.

                He leaned down and picked her up.  “We’re going to sleep in the guest room.”

                She laughed. “Good call.  You always make the _best_ decisions, Puddin.” 

                He carried her into the other bedroom, deciding he was too tired and he'd worry about his disquieting feelings in the morning. _It’s just the endorphins, she’s a great fuck but it doesn’t mean you couldn’t shoot her_ , he told himself.   They crawled into bed and he pulled her into his arms, his chest against her back. 

 _Cold in here,_ he justified to himself as he fell asleep, his face buried in her golden hair. 


	6. Chapter 6

                Roberto sat down at the desk and opened the thick file that Jacob had prepared on Dr. Harleen Quinzel.  The first item was a head shot; Dr. Quinzel’s graduation photograph.  She didn’t look like a doctor.  With her blonde hair, huge blue eyes, and perfect white smile, she looked a lot more like a cheerleader.  But the credentials he found underneath showed that her looks were deceiving; she was indeed a doctor, a psychiatrist with a medical degree from Gotham University.  Her grades had been exceptional. 

                He flipped through her history, taking note of an interesting conflict in her records. Her high school showed that she had dropped out in her sophomore year – but her transcript from college showed that she had graduated.  Dr. Quinzel had been _somewhere_ between 2002 and 2004, but Jacob hadn’t found a record of it, and generally his research was excellent.  He’d found every detail on where Joe had been before showing up in Italy pretending to be an ambitious teenager from a poor family. 

 _He should have been an actor_ , Roberto thought.  Joe had him fooled for a long time. 

                Roberto reminded himself that dwelling on the past changed nothing, and went back to studying Harleen’s history.  She’d resurfaced in 2004 and started her undergraduate studies on a full gymnastics scholarship, testing out of many core classes and attending school year-round to obtain her bachelor’s degree in just three years.  She started medical school when she hadn’t yet turned 21, and sailed through it with ease.

                Personally, her life was unremarkable; nothing but brief relationships and casual dates until 2014 when she’d started seeing Ben Harrison III, heir to the Harrison Retail Group.  Quite a catch, and they had been engaged but she broke it off fairly recently. 

 _After she started treating Joe,_ Roberto noted.  He was skimming through the family notes when a handwritten notation caught his eye.  Jacob had marked for his attention that the Joker’s first victim after his latest escape from Arkham Asylum was Dr. Quinzel’s stepfather.  Clearly, she hadn’t been upset at the loss.  Had Dr. Quinzel successfully manipulated her patient to kill for her?  She was certainly intelligent enough to do so.

                Roberto laughed out loud.  Oh, this was getting more interesting by the minute. He couldn’t _wait_ to meet this Dr. Quinzel. 

* * *

 

                The Joker woke up early, unusual for him. Usually he didn’t really get to sleep until around 4 a.m., waking up close to noon. It made sense; it wasn’t like his business was conducted early, but it also had to do with his insomnia.  He found it hard to shut his mind off and just rest.  There were so many balls in the air at all times, and failing to catch even one would be disastrous. 

                But last night, he’d slept like the dead.  He carefully slid out of bed, not wanting to wake her.  It wasn’t that he cared if he disturbed her but he was afraid it was going to lead to some conversation he didn’t want to have until he’d had coffee and his head was on straight.  She was sure to start asking questions, anyone would, and he didn’t know if he had answers yet, or rather, he didn’t know what he wanted to tell her. He had to be alone and think this through.

                Nothing had gone as he had anticipated.  He could admit he liked her – there wasn’t much not to like.  She was entertaining company, she was a great fuck, and so far she’d done one hell of a job not only obeying orders but also thinking on her feet and doing what needed to be done in a crisis.  If she had been a man and the personal element hadn’t been there, he’d have been excited about her potential. Probably see her as the next Jonny Frost.  But she wasn’t. 

                Not that he was sexist.  To the contrary, he judged everyone on talent alone. He knew plenty of women he’d love to have on his side in a fight.  Look at Poison Ivy, she was a killing machine who had never felt a regret in her life.  Or Selina, who could break into anywhere, no matter how secure.  Hell, he'd even tried to recruit Lexi after seeing first hand her impressive ability to bring Gotham's richest and most powerful to their knees.  But if he had known Harley was going to turn out like that, he wouldn’t have fucked her. He would have groomed her from the start to be a soldier, and he could have done it.  She had enough resistance for authority – he remembered her anger when she found out they were doing ECT on him without her knowledge – that he could have played on it.  She had a _lot_ of resistance for authority and social norms.  All he’d had to do was take that little crack in her perfect armor and seep into it, widen it bit by bit, until he had shaped her into the perfect weapon.

                _But no,_ he thought.  _You had to fuck her.  As if there was a shortage of pussy in this town._

                The thing is, he hadn’t seen it coming, and that, he decided, was what was most disturbing. 

                He hadn’t seen his own reaction to her coming.  He had tried to play a game he knew well, a game to make her bond to him and serve him.  It always worked; women were predictable and easy.   Play with their head, fuck their brains out one time and they were ready to serve.  Mostly he sent them out on suicide missions.  He could trust a woman who desperately wanted to please him more than he could trust a man who just wanted a paycheck. The man could be swayed by a larger paycheck; the woman could be swayed by nothing.  They wanted his approval so badly that it overrode everything else. They’d get the job done and get themselves killed, probably thinking the whole time that they were dying for love. How romantic.  He had stopped thinking about them as soon as he heard the job was complete.

                This was different.  Somewhere in the process, he’d wound up bonded to _her_ , like a spider getting stuck in its own web.   Self-control had never been a problem for him before.  He used everything and nothing used him.  People, alcohol, drugs, it didn’t matter. He was always in control but now there was this weird, niggling fear eating at him.

                _Fear that she would get killed._

_Fear that she might leave._

_Fear that the day would come when she wasn’t around._

The thoughts put a sick feeling in his stomach that was faintly recognizable and for a second he flashed back to finding his mother passed out yet again, her arm falling off the couch.  He’d thought she was dead.  She wouldn’t wake up, and Joe was scared.  His dad just laughed about it when he came home.  Laughing was better than crying, so he learned to laugh, too. 

                He wasn’t laughing now. 

                He put coffee on headed back to the master bedroom; surely his head would be more clear after a shower and some caffeine and then he could figure out what to do about Harley. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley wakes up alone on the first day of her new life and has too much time to think. Watching the news doesn't help - but talking to Jonny Frost does.

                Harley woke up to find herself alone, but she wasn’t really surprised.  It felt late and a quick glance at the alarm clock confirmed that it was almost noon.  Oh well, she had been tired. _Understandably so_ , she thought, smiling.   She rolled out of bed, wincing at all the things that hurt and rolling her shoulders to loosen them. 

                God, she was sore.  Totally worth it, though.  She padded back to the master bedroom, wondering if he would get upset if she borrowed some clothes. She’d packed some of her things in her car but who knew where that was.  Hopefully he’d had it brought over again but with all the drama last night, maybe not.  She opened the closet and was surprised to see all her new clothes had returned from her apartment.

                _He just snaps his fingers and things happen,_ she thought.  She wondered how many people worked for him.  Just how rich was he?   She opened a dresser drawer and found a collection of new bras and panties, all her size but she had never seen them before.  Every bit of it was Agent Provocateur.  He certainly had good taste, she thought.  The man was allergic to anything cheap.

                She was still alone after she had showered and dressed, but at least now if he came home, she wouldn’t look like something the cat dragged in.  Harley wished she could go out, get some fresh air, but she knew there was a guard at the door – if not Jonny, someone else.  The rules had been made clear to her the previous weekend – she was not to go out unaccompanied, there was too high a risk of being followed and she wasn’t adequately trained yet.  For now, she was expected to stay put if he wasn’t around. 

                _Be patient_ , she told herself. _It won’t last forever. He still doesn’t trust you._   Frustrating but true.  She had saved his life, she had killed for him, but it wasn’t enough.  And it might never be.  When she detached herself from her feelings and went back to analyzing him like a professional, there was so much going on that it made her head spin.  His issues had issues.  As she had learned from his grade school teacher, he was the child of an alcoholic mother.  So right there, it was easy to see where the addiction to danger and excitement had come from, as well as the completely repressed feelings and the terror of having any feelings, which led to pushing away anyone who might be causing feelings. 

                That was going to be fun to deal with right there, but now add in the narcissistic personality disorder, and she really had her hands full.  On top of everything else, he seemed to be an unusual case of narcissism where the cerebral and somatic sides were equally balanced; he was a genius who relied upon his intelligence and scorned everyone who wasn’t at his level, but he was also displayed many of the traits of the somatic, oversexed, obsessive about keeping his body in perfect condition and fixated on having the best of everything.

                _Oh, and there’s that psychotic streak where he truly loves to kill people, and has from a young age.  You forgot about that._

                Harley wondered if the attraction for her had partially been her own issues coming home to roost.  She knew she had an ego about her psychiatric talents, and he was the biggest challenge she had ever laid eyes on.  She had never doubted she would be able to break through to him even if no one else could. 

                _Well, that doesn’t sound narcissistic at all,_ Logical Harleen snarked. 

                _Do I have to kill people to make you go away?_ Harley thought.  _If so, this city is in trouble._

_You like analyzing other people so that you can avoid analyzing yourself. You love him because there’s so much there it will keep you busy forever.  Or at least until you get shot._

                That reminded her, perhaps she should look at the news and see if she was on it.  The thought made her nervous.  It was one thing to do all the things she had done, and quite another to face the reality that everyone in her life knew about them now.  Dr. Arkham. Dr. Leland.  Ben.  His parents.  Her friends.  She was scared to look.

                _You faced death last night and now you’re scared of the news?_  

                She couldn’t find her phone.  He must have taken it, and that thought made her more nervous.  Now she really was a prisoner, with no way of communicating with the outside world. Harley understood how desperately he needed to have control, but they were going to have to negotiate some reasonable terms on how much.  There was a laptop on the kitchen table, but of course it had a password that she didn’t know.  With a sigh, she found the remote and flipped on the television, channel surfing until she found the news.

                Oh yeah – there she was, on grainy security video but it was still unmistakably her.  They were running the clip of her beating the guard to death.  Of course.  She turned up the volume so she could hear the commentary.

                “Dr. Quinzel was at first thought to be the Joker’s hostage, but KGTH News received an anonymous e-mail with video from Arkham Asylum’s security system.  The video clearly shows Quinzel initiating a vicious attack on a guard.”

                “Who was going to shoot me!” Harley yelled at the television.  “Why don’t you report that?”

                “Followed by a steamy moment with the Joker that leaves little doubt who she is working for now,” the reporter continued.

                Harley snorted. “Send me a check, your ratings are going through the roof.” _Damn, but that looked as hot as it felt,_ she thought, watching J’s hand slide down the deep v-neck of her silk blouse. She didn’t care if everybody she knew saw that.  _I’m proud to be his, and I don’t care who sees it._ She was more bothered by the beating – she had to admit it had definitely crossed the line of self-defense.

                The camera cut to an interview with Dr. Arkham.  He was outside in the exercise yard with some little KGTH cupcake of a reporter in a low-cut suit.  From the look on his face, Harley knew he thought he was about to launch into a self-serving, mansplaining diatribe about the situation, and he did not disappoint.

                “We’ve heard Dr. Quinzel was the Catwoman’s psychiatrist, but it seems from the footage that she has teamed up with the Joker. Did you have any warning this was going on?”

                “I had some concerns, yes,” Arkham admitted, giving the camera his saddest and most concerned look.  “Dr. Quinzel is brilliant, but young and reckless.  She insisted upon removing the Joker’s restraints in their sessions, she displayed inappropriate concern for his wellbeing, and on one occasion she was found alone with him in a staff area prior to his escape.”

                “Inappropriate concern?”  She felt like her head was going to explode.  “Excuse me for being opposed to torturing patients.”

                “Do you think she knows what she is doing?”  The young reporter was all wide eyes and drama; it was nauseating.  “Could the Joker be drugging her?”

                “In my professional judgment, she does not appear to be drugged, but I think he has manipulated her.  I believe she’s suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, a condition in which fear turns to love and a victim will defend their abuser.  I hope she is captured – she desperately needs our help.”  Arkham gave a theatrical sigh. 

                Harley was so livid at this point that she chucked the remote control at the television set, which predictably shattered into a million pieces.  _That_ sound got Jonny’s attention and he was at the door a second later.

                “You all right?”

                “I am not crazy, Jonny, and I’m not some kind of abuse victim!”  Harley looked like she wanted to kill someone; fortunately, it didn’t look like it was him.

                “Oh, the news,” he realized.  He’d watched it too, he always did.   The security footage was useful to review from a strategic standpoint – they’d sustained too many losses last night, and they needed to do better in the future.  His own head might have been on the chopping block if Harley had been among them, and he knew it.  “Hey, you know they like to exaggerate and say crazy stuff to keep people watching.”

                She was slightly mollified by his reminder, but still upset that everyone she knew was hearing Arkham’s bullshit misdiagnosis of her.  “I know that what I’ve done might not make sense to a lot of people, but it doesn’t mean I’ve lost my mind.”  Harley sat back down at the table.  “I know exactly what I’m doing.”  That might be a lie, but she didn’t intend to admit her insecurities to anyone, especially not one of the Joker’s goons.  “Why are you here?”

                “Didn’t finish high school. My head switches letters around.  The boss hired me as club security and I got promoted.  He knew I wasn’t stupid but no one else did.  And he’s been good to me.”

                Harley nodded.  “Yeah, he’s good at reading people.”

                Jonny looked a little awkward. “Hey, I’m sorry about last weekend.  Knocking you out.  You needed to look like a victim if anybody was watching.” 

                “It’s okay,” she told him. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m glad you did it.” They both laughed.  “Um, I’m sorry about the TV…can I buy another?  I mean, if you have any idea where my purse and wallet went, because I don’t.”

                “You can’t use cards or your phone, they’ll find you.  Your car's been destroyed.  Consider all that gone.  You’ve got new ID on the way and a phone.  He’ll tell you who you can talk to, I advise paying attention.”

                She nodded, it made sense.  Now that she’d seen her face all over the news, the apartment had started feeling like a safe haven instead of a jail cell.

                “It won’t be like that forever.  He goes where he pleases, you will too.”

                “What about the police?”

                Jonny shook his head. “That is _not_ an issue.  You’re going to be untouchable - at least as long as you’re with him.  Only thing you gotta learn to watch out for is other crooks and flying rodents.”

                “Batman? We’ve met, he seemed to like me.”  Harley giggled.

                “Oh, I know,” Jonny said.  “I almost got a knife in my throat because you two met.”

                “Sorry.”  She tried to look contrite but suspected she failed.

                “You’re not sorry,” he said, before turning and heading back to his post outside the door.    


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mr. J tries his very best to pull his feet out of the feelings quicksand and Harley's just happy she has a phone again.

                Harley finally heard the door open as he came in and breathed a sigh of relief.  She looked at the clock. 1:45 a.m.  The Joker came into the bedroom, took off his jacket and started unbuckling his gun holster.

                “Where were you?”  Harley’s tone betrayed her annoyance.

                “Out.  At the club.  I had business to attend to. Is there a problem?”  He was tired and a little bit drunk and this was a conversation he did not wish to have.  He hoped she wasn’t going to push it.

                “You could have send Jonny a message and told me.  I thought something happened to you.”  _And why hadn’t he taken her to the club?  What business did he have that she couldn’t be present for?  Some other girl business, that’s what,_ her jealous mind decided.   Harley was pretty sure she’d caught a whiff of perfume as he took off his shirt.   

                She heard him snort derisively in the darkness.  “Something could happen to me _every_ day.  I’m not an insurance salesman.  And I don’t check in, so get used to it.”

                Harley sighed and decided to tone it down before she really pissed him off.  “Not asking you to, just saying I was worried.”

                “If I die, there’s a quarter million dollars in a safe behind the fridge.  Combination is your birthday.  Now you don’t have to be worried.”  He finished undressing and got into bed, but stayed on his side and turned away from her. 

                _Such an asshole,_ she thought, _but I wonder how long the combination has been my birthday?_ The thought placated her enough to let her drift off to sleep.

* * *

When she woke up, he was gone again, but there was a new smartphone, a wallet and a note on the bedside table.

 

_If the number’s not in the contacts it means you don’t talk to them._

_Be ready at 3.  Your clothes are in the bathroom._

_J_

_Control freak much?_

                Oh well, at least it was a phone and she could check out the news.  Harley didn't want to admit it but she wanted to watch the security footage, oh, another 50 or so times, and now she could.  She flipped through the wallet and saw that she had a set of ID and credit cards that said Harley Quinn on them.  How the heck did he…well, how did he do everything?  Clearly it was a lot easier to get around the system than she had ever thought.  She’d been impressed she managed to fake a high school transcript and get away with it. 

                Harley wandered into the bathroom and saw that he’d hung up casual clothes for her to wear – skinny jeans and a thin red sweater with a high neck.  Harley wondered where they were going but she knew she’d just have to wait and see. At least it means he was spending _some_ time with her. She was still rattled by the fact he’d disappeared all day yesterday.

                She scrolled through the short list of contacts. Some were names she didn’t even know yet. Harley found Selina’s number and decided to give her a call.  It would be good to talk to another woman, and it looked like Selina was on the short list for her new BFF as the only female name in the phone. 

                “Selina, it’s Harley.”

                “It’s good to hear from you,” Selina really did sound pleased.  “I wasn’t sure if J was going to let you communicate with the outside world or just keep you chained to his bed for a week.”

                Harley laughed. “You’re not too far off but he did leave me a phone today and your number was in it.  Are you okay?”

                “Just hanging out and watching us on the news.  _You_ looked great.  I look like a cow in that ugly orange suit.”

                Harley made a frustrated noise.  “I look like an idiot.  My boss is an asshole.”

                “Your ex-boss, I’m pretty sure.  How are things with your _new_ boss?”

                _He’s not my boss,_ she wanted to say, but stopped herself.  _Save your lies for someone who’ll believe them._

                “I don’t know yet. It’s 50 percent amazing and 50 percent what the fuck did I do.  I gave up a lot and I gave it up for someone whose emotions resemble blinking Christmas lights.”

                “Sweetie,” Selina pointed out, “If they’re coming on at all, you’ve raised the dead.  I didn’t think it could be done.”  They both laughed.   “So, are we still getting together tomorrow?  I’m looking forward to teaching you everything I know.”

                “As long as I can clear it with upper management, I’ll be there.”  _I’m looking forward to learning everything you know about Mr. J that I couldn’t ask you in Arkham._

                “Oh… that won’t be a problem.  Have Jonny bring you by around 10.”

* * *

                _This is ridiculous,_ the Joker decided.

                He didn’t have a damn thing to do with himself until 3:00.  He was staying out of his own home because he needed to know that he could live without her and keep his hands off of her and the easiest way to do that was to not be with her, so here he sat, in his car, in the parking garage, like an idiot.  He’d already made all the phone calls he needed to make and now he had nothing to do.

                _Just go back inside,_ he thought.  _So what if you fuck her, isn’t that what she’s there for?_

No.  He had to know that he could stay away.  Fucking her was about controlling her and that wasn’t the problem.  The problem was that he couldn’t control himself around her.  He was like an alcoholic who thinks he’ll take one drink and stop but wakes up after blacking out, two states away, in the back seat of a car he doesn’t remember stealing.  

                He had _meant_ to stay out all night last night.  Reinforce the point that no rules applied to him and Harley wasn’t to have any expectations about his behavior.  He’d even meant to bang one of the new dancers, an exotic little brunette with huge eyes.  Normally she’d have been just his type, but Jesus, she was so stupid and she was obviously scared of him.  He used to get off on the fear but last night it had turned him off.   It just wasn’t as much _fun_ as unraveling Harley, stripping off the layers of proper behavior one by one.  Harley was such a little overachiever, no matter what he threw at her, in bed or out, she would try to be the best he’d ever had.  It was who she _was_ , it was never an act. 

                He had looked at the girl sitting on his lap pretending not to be scared of him and thought, _everything with you is an act_.  And with that he’d gotten up, dumping her unceremoniously onto the floor, and driven home.

                The Joker started his car.  Fuck it, he’d go stalk some of his henchmen.  See if they were doing anything they weren’t supposed to be doing. That sounded like a good use of a Sunday morning and it was a hell of a lot better than sitting here.       


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Field trip! And smut. Yeah, my favorite kind of chapter too...

                  When he returned, she did a double-take.  He was dressed as he had been the previous week when they’d gone shopping; casual clothes, more on the preppy side than the rock star side today, hair tinted back to brown, makeup covering the tattoos, sunglasses.  He handed her a dark brown wig, a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap.

                  “Put these on.  I’m taking you to the gun range. It’s time you learned to shoot.”

                  “I - I thought you had a private gun range. We’re going out in public?”  It was off-putting, talking to him when he looked like this.  He didn’t even _sound_ like himself when he looked like this. 

                  “I do but yes, we are.  You need to learn to focus with distractions and we can’t do that at home.  Is there a problem?”

                  The thought of going out in public not 48 hours since she’d murdered someone on video and had it blasted all over the news did not sound like a good idea at all.  She was sure the whole GCPD was looking for her, and probably the Bat, too.  “You’re not worried we’ll get caught?  You look totally different but I won’t. I’ll look like me with a wig and sunglasses.”

                  He rolled his eyes.  “Everything is more fun when you can get caught and it’s up to you to be different.  You’re the overachiever with the 4.0 GPA…figure it out.”

                  Harley disappeared into the bathroom without another word.

 _Good girl,_ he thought.  _You’ll figure it out, I just have to remind you once in a while to think._

* * *

                  They arrived at the range and parked the car about a block away.  It was an extremely blah beige Toyota that she couldn’t imagine him owning, but he was right – if you were going to go unnoticed, you couldn’t very well drive around in a purple Lamborghini. 

                  Harley was nervous walking down the street but she told herself this was an acting job, and she was determined to make it Academy-award worthy. She was chewing gum and she’d taken off her expensive bracelet for the first time.   The wig looked like someone had stolen it off of Joan Collins around 1985, seriously big hair.  Her makeup bordered on tacky – way too much purple for daytime and major fake lashes – and she had ditched the designer footwear for a pair of boots from Target that she’d had since college.  Fortunately, Jonny had made sure all of her clothes from her apartment had been in her new home before she was.  He might be grumpy at times but she saw why Mr. J kept him around.  She caught a glimpse of herself in a window as they walked by and had to admit she really didn’t look anything like herself.  She looked like any one of a million girls in this city, girls who couldn’t actually live in the city but took the train in, girls who hadn’t yet figured out the difference between sexy and just looking like a hooker.

                  Once inside, she let Mr. J. deal with the guy working there. He was quite the actor himself; all of the Joker mannerisms were gone. He sounded for all the world like he’d grown up in Queens and she followed his lead and reverted to her Brooklyn accent. That alone made her a lot less recognizable; Harleen had spent plenty of time retraining her voice to sound professional before she started college.  No one had heard her speak in her native tongue for the last ten years. 

                  They went to the bay they were assigned and he started explaining the rules to her.  Harley listened intently, wanting to pull her phone out and take notes but she wasn’t sure if that would irritate him so she just tried to remember all the rules about where her hands could be, where the gun was allowed to be pointed, and how not to piss off anybody else or draw attention to them.  They had to wear goggles and ear plugs, but she could still hear what he had to say, especially when he leaned down and talked right into her ear, as he often did anyway.

                  “You got it?”  he asked.

                  She nodded.  “Ya, I think so.”

                  “OK. We’re going to start you off using both hands. Left leg forward, right leg back, left hip at a 45 degree angle to the target.”   The Joker stood behind her and put his hands on her hips, maneuvering her into place as he had described.  At his touch, Harley immediately stopped worrying about being in public, the Gotham City Police, Batman, her future and the consequences of her actions.  _Damn it,_ she thought, _when was she going to stop reacting to him like this?_ His low chuckle told him that he’d felt her shiver. 

                  He reached around her and helped her position her hands on the pistol.  “Hold it tight.  You probably don’t have the best grip so I want you to really squeeze it.  If you don’t have the rest of your fingers tight, you’ll pull the gun down and to the side when you pull the trigger.” 

                  “Okay.”

                  “When you pull a trigger, you don’t jerk on it.  Your finger needs to come straight back at an even speed.  Nothing else moves but your trigger finger.  You gotta hold everything else solid.”

                  He stood behind her, pressed up against her back and put his hands over her own on the gun.  Harley bit her lip.  How in the world was she supposed to focus on shooting a gun if he was going to touch her like this?

                  “Put your shoulders down.  Relax.”

                  “I’m tryin’ this is just not a relaxin’ activity,” she complained in her best Brooklyn accent. 

                  “You’ve been around plenty of gunfire lately,” he whispered in her ear.  “This should be easy in comparison.” 

 _You weren’t touching me then. That’s what’s making this hard,_ she thought.

                  “And _stop_ wiggling,” he hissed.

 _Speaking of hard,_ she thought, _I do believe I feel-_

                  He squeezed her finger on the trigger and the gun went off, startling her.  “Shit!” she gasped.  She’d hit the target but not by much.

                  “See what happens when you don’t pay attention?” he admonished her.  “Again.”

                  The next shot was better, and soon she felt like she was getting the hang of it.  He had her aim at different parts of the body, pointing out that sometimes the obvious targets were protected and disabling someone was better than doing nothing.  Even getting shot in the hand did a great job of keeping them from shooting _you_ , so if that was the shot you had, you took it. 

                  Harley was going to be a good shot, he noted.  She had an eye, and she had the coordination, any trouble she had was because she was new and her grip strength wasn’t there yet.  But that would come.   He had taken his hands away and let her shoot on her own as he watched.  _Fuck_ , it was hot watching her.  She was so focused.  So intense.  When she hit the target exactly where he’d told her to, her whole face lit up and she giggled.  She really liked it and she would like it even better when it mattered.  He thought of the girl at the club last night…pathetic, scared, uninteresting, nothing like watching his Harley as she drank in more and more of his world…every shot she took, she lit up a little bit more.  He wasn’t sure if she remembered he was standing here anymore.

                  The Joker knew without a doubt she’d have no problem gunning down the enemy.

                  “That’s enough,” he finally said.  As fascinating as this was, she was going to be plenty sore tomorrow from the recoil of the pistol, and he might need her to be able to shoot again sooner than later.

                  She turned to him, looking disappointed.  “Can we come back?”

                  He laughed. “And you can practice at home but you gotta take it easy, you’re going to hurt in the morning.”

                  Harley smiled seductively at him, “But don’t I always when you’re around?”  He didn’t answer but he made that _noise_ that she loved, that half-purr, half-growl sound. 

* * *

                  The cold air hit them as they stepped outside and Harley shivered.  It was dark; they’d been at the range for longer than she thought, but she hadn’t wanted to stop.  She was buzzing with the adrenaline and knew she couldn’t wait to try out her newfound skills in the field.  Harley was so busy chattering away to him, practicing her rusty Brooklyn accent, that she didn’t even notice right away that they’d walked down an alley away from where the car was parked.

                  “Puddin, where-“

                  He clamped a hand over her mouth and she suddenly realized what he was looking at.  At the end of the alley was a police car, lights on.  They had pulled over a speeder, they weren’t looking for her but she would have been hard to miss, even in disguise, if she’d walked right out in front of them.  Fortunately Mr. J. had been paying attention.  He was _always_ paying attention. She’d have to get better at that. 

                  He pressed her up against the wall, his hand still over her mouth.  “We’re going to have stay put ‘til he’s gone,” he whispered in her ear. “No moving, no noises, nothing to attract his attention.  Can you be completely quiet?”

                  She nodded, wide eyed. 

                  “No matter what?”  His hand was busy at her waist as he pulled her sweater out of the tight jeans and slid his cold hand up the bare skin underneath.   Harley sucked in her breath but clamped her mouth tightly shut and didn’t move.  “Let’s see how good at this you are.”  The Joker slid his hand under her bra and teased her, watching her grit her teeth and try not to react.  They weren’t more than thirty feet from the car.  He watched as she swallowed hard. 

                  He slid his hand down and unzipped her jeans.  They were so tight he could barely get his hand inside but he snaked it in and slid two long fingers under her panties and between her folds. She was every bit as wet as he had imagined when he was watching her inside.  She closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder as he started to move his fingers back and forth. 

                  “I bet that cop would like watching us,” he whispered into her ear. “Maybe he’ll see something and come over here.  Maybe I’ll _make_ you make a noise.”  He heard only a tiny, strangled sound in the back of her throat but he felt her pussy contracting under her hand.  “Good girl, that was _very_ quiet. I’ll have to try harder.” He let a low chuckle escape him. She was shaking and he withdrew his hand and pressed up against her so she could feel how hard he was, grinding her against the wall.  They only had a narrow window of darkness where they were safe from the spinning lights of the car. He could feel her breath on his shoulder even through his clothes.

                  Finally, the car shut off its lights.  He had her jeans down before it had even pulled away and she wasn’t even trying to argue with him.  She heard him unzip his own and she raised her right leg to wrap around him.

 _Just like the first time,_ she thought, and they’d almost been caught that time, too.  He sank into her and she threw her head back, arching her back and pushing herself even closer.  He felt so good…

                  They both heard footsteps; someone was approaching on the street.  He put his hand over her mouth again but he didn’t keep still; instead, he moved his hips in slow circles, daring her to react.  She opened her mouth and started to trace a pattern on his hand with the tip of her tongue.  He barely suppressed a groan and he saw her eyes light up in triumph.

_Oh, you’re going to pay for that later, you little minx._

                  He bit her neck, sucking the skin between his lips and ground himself into her even harder.  She came again, biting her own lip to stay quiet.  A thin trickle of blood welled up on her lip and the sight of it drove him over the edge. He sucked her lip into his mouth and tasted the blood, coming so hard that everything went black in front of his eyes for a second. 

_Jesus Christ. She is going to kill me.  Never mind Batman, this is how I'm going to die._

                 The look on his face was not lost on Harley.  He could see her eyes glittering at him in the dark.  She looked like she’d happily go another round right here if he asked for it. 

                “I told you things were more fun when you could get caught,” he reminded her.

                “Wait ‘til we get home, Puddin,” she announced in her Brooklyn voice. “I’m gonna show ya what fun really is.”  She stretched her hands into the air, fluffed out her brown curls and walked ahead of him toward the car, knowing she was giving him a fantastic view of her ass in the skinny jeans.  Harley could feel his eyes burning into her the whole way.    

                _Mission accomplished_ , she thought.  _He won’t be anywhere tonight but in our bed._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite all her earlier fears, Harley likes her new life and is determined to excel at it. But she's about to learn Harleen was right about some things.

              Things settled into a routine so quickly that it felt a little surreal to Harley. 

              She felt like she was back in school because every day Jonny drove her to Selina’s and Selina spent the day teaching her about security systems and what kinds of buildings had ventilation systems you could use to get in and out and how to scramble the video feeds of cameras. It was incredibly interesting and she liked giving her mind some exercise.   _Making sure my brains are still there and J hasn't fucked them out completely,_ she thought, and giggled.

              As it turned out, Mr. J. had loved the idea of Selina teaching her.  He didn't share this with Harley, but he figured the cat was a good influence in case she was still having any second thoughts about her new life.  He was pretty sure he had ensured she wasn’t, but it never hurt to reinforce the message. 

              Harley was quickly learning there were some ways in which her boyfriend was no different than any other guy.  He was all too happy to hand over responsibility for the tedious details of life to her; within two days she had every login and access to every account so that she could handle paying the bills.  She was surprised to find out he did things legitimately with the clubs, paying taxes and workers comp like any other business. 

              “It’s not enough money to matter,” he told her.  “And I don’t need stupid complications in my life.” 

              She was flattered that he trusted her with access to all the accounts, and a little bit shocked to see how much money there really was.  Then again, she supposed anyone stealing from him wouldn’t get far without a bullet in their head, so he didn’t worry about it. 

              Harley liked the idea of becoming an indispensable part of his business dealings; it felt like a little more insurance that she wasn’t going to be temporary and she was still insecure about that.   She hoped trusting her with business was a step on the road to trusting her in general, and she tried to outdo herself, obsessively researching club management and looking for ways to save money and expand profits.  He had already started to talk about training her to hire and deal with the dancers, and hinted that more responsibility was down the road if she proved she could handle it. 

              _It’s crazy, I’m more excited about being promoted here than I was about advancing in my medical career,_ she thought.  But then, she had never cared so much what a boss thought of her.  As with her early days at Arkham, she knew the guys thought she was the flavor of the week, too cute to be taken seriously, and would be gone soon.  The idea of being the one to put them in their place couldn’t have been more appealing. 

              Anyway, her previous career was gone or going…she’d already received a letter from the Gotham Medical Board about the fact that it had come to their attention she’d been charged with manslaughter.  They couldn’t actually yank her license until she was convicted, but that would be sooner or later.  The Joker didn’t believe in the legal system, and generally ignored it entirely.  He didn’t want to spend money on lawyers knowing that no prison could hold him, or anyone he wanted out.  What was the point?  It was a relief; Harley couldn’t imagine showing up for a trial and facing all the people from her previous life. She hoped that Gotham was a big enough city that she could avoid running into them ever again. 

              There would be plenty of places they would never be.  Harley wanted to go to the club again, especially now that there was no need for anonymity and she could dress in something revealing and drive J crazy, but the Joker had held off on that, telling her she had to be a better shot first or it wouldn’t be safe.  “I can’t get distracted trying to protect you,” he pointed out.  “You have to be able to protect yourself.”

              She had bristled at his words.  “I thought I did pretty well.”

              “You did okay at the end but if Jonny hadn’t yanked you out of the way at the beginning, you’d have had a bullet in your head.  You never saw the guy’s shoulder tense when he was gonna go for his gun.  I did.  Jonny did.  Or you’d be dead.”

              He had a point.  She hated when he had a point, and he had them often.  Harley felt like he had somehow gotten the upper hand 99.9% of the time, and it wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed.  At first, she had tried to subtly continue their therapy sessions.  She still wanted to know more about his past, but he knew the difference between an innocent question and Harley digging into his head, and wasn’t about to allow the latter now that he was out of a straitjacket.  She told herself that if she was patient, he would reveal more of himself to her in time; it was impossible to live with someone without that happening, even if what you revealed came in the form of your actions and reactions instead of your words. 

              All in all, things were going better than she had expected, unless she broke down and looked at the news. It wasn’t the news, specifically. It was the comments to the news and the comments on social media.  Everybody who hadn’t liked her in fourth grade science class had popped up claiming to have seen her criminal origins all along.  And that didn’t even count the guys she had refused to date in high school and the things they had to say.  Ben had thankfully kept it classy and refused to comment.  Her mother, not so much – Harley was horrified to find a multi-part series on TMZ where her mother had shared every detail about her early life…except of course the one she was still in denial about, the one that probably _was_ partially responsible for creating the woman she was today.  She had gone so far as to speculate that Kevin’s grisly death may have pushed her daughter into insanity because they were so close. 

              _Wonder what they paid her?_   Harley thought bitterly.  Well, she should have known it.  A mother who loved her daughter would not have turned a blind eye to what her daughter was enduring at the hands of her husband.  Still, it was one thing to suspect that and another to have it confirmed. It made her sad despite herself and her sadness irritated Mr. J like nothing else.

              “The whole idea…of being bonded for life to the brood sow who spit you out of her crotch is ridiculous,” he ranted.  “Who gives a fuck?  My mother didn’t notice I was gone and I was gone by the time I was _nine_.”

 _Well…wow._ She almost felt like she should keep tweaking him on the subject so that he’d reveal more but he looked a little too pissed off and perhaps poking the bear was unwise.   The pity must have shown in her eyes because he turned on her anyway.

              “STOP IT!”

              “What?”  She was confused.

              “Stop looking like you feel sorry for me.  There’s nothing to feel sorry _about._   Having that pathetic cow out of my life was a relief.  My life’s better without her and your life is a _lot_ ,” he gestured wildly around their luxurious surroundings “-better without yours.  I _saw_ the shithole you grew up in.  Now, stop reading that trash or I’m going to take your phone away.”

              Harley didn’t stop, but she was careful to erase her Internet history and made sure she looked happy every time he walked in the door – not that it was difficult.  He was gone a lot which was okay now that she was at Selina’s all day, only coming in late at night in either a wonderful mood or a terrible one.  She learned quickly to nap in the early evening, after she got home, because either mood could mean she’d be up until 4 or 5 with him and she didn’t do as well with sleep deprivation as he did.  The bad nights, he’d show up and start breaking things or throw knives at the wall until she convinced him to talk to her.  She would try to redirect him from his anger into formulating a logical plan to move forward.  It was always a good way to do things with any angry person; she’d learned _that_ much tending bar as a teenager.  Take the angry customer and try to put forth solutions.  _While bending over and giving them a fantastic view of your cleavage,_ she remembered.  Well, _that_ still worked, too.

              If he was in a good mood, he’d usually have a present for her and it was always something nice.  Sometimes he wasn’t tired (she had a feeling the coke use had a lot to do with that, but knew better than to make an issue of it this early on) and they’d go back out, never anywhere with other people, but he apparently had quite a mental list going of places he wanted to have sex with her in the city, and was eager to start checking them off.  They were, without exception, places they were at a high risk of being caught, but she realized that got her off as much as it did him, so she never argued. 

 _Bruce Wayne must have wondered why all the papers on his desk were on the floor when he came in Thursday morning,_ she thought with a smile.  That had been a lot of fun.  Harley was realizing as she went on that she had just as much of a craving as the Joker did to do what they weren’t supposed to, to flout any of the rules of what you were supposed to do and how you were supposed to do it.  Who made the rules, anyway?  Life was a hell of a lot more fun when you ignored them. 

              _You keep putting on a show for the security cameras, and sooner or later a lot more of you is going to be on the Internet._ Of course, that would be funny.  That would be really good revenge.  Her mother would never get over the shame, whereas Harley didn’t really care.  She kind of liked the idea of shocking all the snotty girls at school who’d thought of her as a straitlaced prude, not to mention showing the world what she alone got to play with.  She pulled up the Facebook profile of the girl she remembered as being the nastiest, and was pleased to see Beth had packed on a _good_ forty pounds since high school.   _Karma's a bitch._

              A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.  That was weird.  Jonny wasn’t here today, maybe Brad had locked himself out.  Brad was _not_ the sharpest crayon in the box.  Still smiling and thumbing through her phone, Harley opened the door.


	11. Chapter 11

          Harley slowly regained consciousness, her mouth dry and her head aching. _This getting knocked out thing is getting old fast,_ she thought.  She became dimly aware that she was tied to a chair, and had one hell of a neck ache.  No one else was in the room.

 _How could she have been so stupid?_   Mr. J was going to be so mad at her.  Hell, she was mad at herself.  

 _You’re lucky you’re waking up at all._  Ah, there it was, the one thing sure to make this unpleasant experience more unpleasant – Logical Harleen using her best “I told you so” tone.  _Since when do you not even look out the peephole before you open the door?  You knew to do that when you were_ seven _.  It might have been important to remember now that you live with an infamous criminal with thousands of enemies._

 _Shut up,_ she told herself.  _This is not helping. Try to figure out a plan._

          The room was nothing special – an interior office that didn’t look like it had been used in a while. There were boxes around and old computers.  There were no windows to the outside, and her chair was the only piece of furniture in the room.  She was tied at the wrists and the ankles, but she could touch the floor with her feet.  Harley pushed her heels against the ground experimentally, and the chair moved. 

 _Yes,_ she thought. Ducking her chin to her chest to try to protect her head, Harley deliberately flipped the wooden chair over in the hope that it would break.  She crashed backward and managed to avoid hitting her head.  It didn’t break but it felt looser when she struggled against the arms.  She decided to roll the whole thing over a few times.  Her knees hurt like hell when they hit the floor, but the space between her wrists had widened.  She inhaled a long, deep breath, braced herself and forced her elbows apart as hard she could.

          The back of the chair gave way with a loud crack and Harley giggled aloud.  With her hands separated, she was able to untie first one wrist and then the other.  Moments later, she had her ankles free.  She wrenched one spindle off the back of the destroyed chair to use as a weapon, and tried the doorknob. Of course it was locked.  Harley crouched down, pulling apart the nearest computer, looking for a part she could use to pick the lock, grateful for her recent lessons in how to do exactly that. There had to be something small, sharp and metal in there…

          She heard the key working in the door and jumped behind it, ready to brain whoever walked through with her new weapon.  Harley swung hard as her captor entered, but although she connected, he didn’t drop.

_Goddamn it.  Helmet.  Someone’s been watching the news._

          A gun barrel was pointed at her face.  “Sit down.  On the floor, against that wall.”

          She gauged the odds that she could win this round.  He looked pretty well padded – definitely wearing a bulletproof vest as well as the helmet and some kind of padding on his arms and legs.  _You’d think I was a vicious dog that might attack,_ Harley thought.  _And…accurate._   She decided to sit down and wait for a better opportunity.  Harley slid to the floor slowly, and sat cross legged, watching her captor. 

          “My boss will be in to talk to you in a minute.”

_Hmmm.  Need to get his face close enough to bite…_

          She looked up and smiled sweetly.  “Awww, so you’re just another lackey who couldn’t do any better in life than a job where you’re gonna get shot before your face clears up. That’s _so saaaaaaad_.”  She saw his entire body tighten in response to her words, but he said nothing.  Harley was about to take a chance on trying to kick the gun from his hands when an older man walked in, also carrying a gun.  Now she was outnumbered. He wore an expensive suit and a fair bit of jewelry. _Looks like the poster child for drug money,_ Harley thought.

          He surveyed the broken chair and noted that she was free.  “Dr. Quinzel.  I’m impressed by your redecorating skills.”  He had an Italian accent.  Had to be some angry drug connection.  _Goddamn it, J, could you at least warn me when someone’s out for your ass?_

          “I was bored.  Ya didn’t leave me much ta do in here.”  She slipped effortlessly back into her Brooklyn accent. It had a way of making people, strike that, _men,_ underestimate her.

          “I deeply apologize. I should have left you a few innocent people to kill, at the very least.”

          “Who are ya?” she snapped, irritated at the insinuation that she enjoyed killing. She didn’t, it was just it was part and parcel of being with Mr. J.  _He_ was what she enjoyed – and sometimes you had to break a few eggs to make an omelet. 

          “An old friend of your boyfriend’s.  You can call me Roberto.  I’d shake your hand but I have a feeling that might hurt.”

          Harley gave him her best wide-eyed, innocent look and he laughed out loud.  “I know better, my dear.”

          “If you’re ‘is friend, you oughta know he’s not gonna come runnin’ because ya got me.  He don’t think like that.”

          Roberto leaned against the wall and smiled down at her.  “I have known Joe for 18 years.  You’re the exception to all the rules. I’m betting you’re an exception to that one too.”

          “Don’t hold ya breath,” she said, sounding disgusted with her man and hoping the act worked on this guy. 18 years?  _He knew Mr. J’s real name?  Who was he?_ She needed to get him talking.  “How d’ya know Mr. J?”

          “We were business associates. Or should I say, he was my protégé until he got the idea he was smarter than I was.  And for a moment he was, but he’s about to see who will get the last laugh.  That’s a concept he, of all people, should appreciate.” 

          On that note, he calmly pulled out a second gun and tasered her.  Harley thought he’d shot her with a bullet; the pain was intense and she was rendered unable to move, her body convulsing but her mind clear and experiencing it all.  She dimly realized that Roberto’s henchman was using the opportunity to chain her wrists to the wall but she couldn’t fight back. By the time she could feel her limbs again, they were both out of kicking range and she was chained to the wall like a wild animal.  She gasped, trying to get her voice back to scream the words she was thinking but her mouth was so dry she couldn’t make a noise.

          “My apologies, but we’ve been watching you and you can put up quite a fight for such a tiny little thing.”

          Harley stared at him. She desperately wanted a drink of water, but she didn’t want to show weakness, so she stayed silent, watching him. He was pulling something out of his briefcase, something white with cords.  A webcam.

          “My old friend can enjoy watching you sit here without food or water,” Roberto was saying.  “I think he’ll be here faster if he knows that you’re suffering and I’ve done some _redecorating_ myself. Neither of you will leave here alive.”

          She coughed and managed to speak.  “Fuck you.  He won’t come.  He ain’t that stupid.”

          Roberto shrugged.  “Then you’re going to die, and it won’t be a pleasant way to go.”   He left the room, taking his henchman with him.  Harley heard the key turn as they locked her in.  She looked at the cuffs. There was absolutely no way out now, not without breaking both of her hands, and she didn’t know if she even had the strength to do that.  At least they had chained her in a sitting position.  She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, exhausted.  

* * *

          The Joker rolled his eyes in annoyance seeing his phone light up in the middle of an important meeting.  Still, Jonny rarely called without good reason, so he excuse himself from the room to answer but found Jonny right outside, waiting to see him.

          “This has better be important,” he growled.

          “I had a weird feeling and stopped by the apartment.  Brad was dead in the hallway.  Harley is gone.”

          “WHAT?” he hissed, almost not comprehending what he'd just been told.

          “Surveillance showed one guy, chloroformed her and took her.  Could have been anybody’s guy. I don’t recognize him.”

          He felt like someone had buried a cannonball in his stomach.  Gone?  _Gone?_  He started to pace back and forth, trying to decide what to do.

 _Think!  Why are you having a fucking meltdown?_ He took a deep breath and tried to collect himself and shut down the nagging voice that was informing him she might already be dead.

          “She have her phone on her?”

          “Dropped it.  Wait – Didn’t we chip that bracelet before you gave it to her?” 

          “Fuck. _Yes_. We did,” Good _thing one of them still had a brain._  The Joker pulled up an app on his phone and tapped on it impatiently as the GPS loaded.  He charged toward the elevator, closely followed by Jonny. _Fuck the meeting_.  There was always more money to be made -- after he got Harley back.

* * *

          The feed led them to an apartment in midtown, a walk up in an old brick building.  Jonny thought a quiet approach might be best but there was no slowing down his boss, who couldn't wait to tear up the stairs and kick in the door, guns in both hands. The silence that greeted them was unsettling and both men had the thought that they'd only be finding a body.  There was a bedroom off to one side and they rushed in, guns drawn, to find a television set playing a live feed in the middle of the room.

          She was there - on the screen.  Chained to a wall.  He couldn't tell if she was unconscious or asleep, but she wasn't dead. He could see her breathing.

          The bracelet lay on the table in front of the screen, with a note.

 

> You didn't think I'd make it that easy, did you?  
> 
> We have some old business to discuss.  When you find me.  Which may or may not be before she dies, but I know you love a good game.
> 
> Roberto

_Fuck_.

          No one hated him more in the world than Roberto.  No one had more reason to.  

          He should have known he’d hear that name again.  It had just been such a long time that he really thought it was over.  He knew the old man had gotten out of prison but he thought he was dead.  Dead wouldn’t have been unusual in his profession, and the Joker had heard nothing of him, every time he tried to investigate.

          But he wasn’t dead. He was alive and well – and he had Harley.

          The Joker grabbed the bracelet and the note and stuffed them in his pocket, frustrated.  "Call everyone.  Selina too.  Send them pictures of Roberto Cassarino, I want that circulated to _everyone_.  He's not good about being discreet, he's here - someone has seen him."

          Jonny nodded.  He thought he knew all of the boss's enemies but of course another had popped out of the woodwork and he felt like that was an Mafia name which meant well staffed, well secured and well armed.   _Good times._  He found Roberto's picture before he got to the car and had it sent with a short message and a big reward for information to every one of their business contacts in his phone within minutes.  He looked up to see the Joker standing next to the car staring at the city in a daze.

          "Boss?"

          The Joker shook his head almost imperceptibly and slid into the back of the car, but the zoned out look never left his face and that made Jonny more nervous than hunting down a mafioso ever could.  


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roberto has settled in to watch his revenge play out and he makes one last visit to his captive, as the Joker finally gets information he can use.

              Every lead came up cold.  The Joker had never been so frustrated in his life and even Jonny was at the point where he didn’t give him updates without wearing a bulletproof vest. 

              His boss hadn’t slept in the two days since Harley had gone missing, and he wouldn’t let anybody else sleep, either.  Jonny’s concerns about Mr. J’s reaction had proved well-founded; his normally deadly calm boss was in a thinly-disguised panic and liable to shoot anybody who didn’t give him the answers he needed.  Jonny wore his vest and made sure everything that came out of his mouth sounded like a good lead, even if it wasn’t.

              At the moment he was watching the boss try to get an answer out of Edward Nygma.  The Riddler had a habit of knowing things others didn’t but also not giving straight answers.  No matter how frustrated the Joker was, he was going to have to hold it together to get any information Nygma had. 

              “I know…you’ve heard something. You always do.”  The Joker spoke in measured tones but it was impossible not to see the anxiety in his posture or notice his hands clenched into fists by his side.  The Riddler had never been so amused.  _Who would have thought the day would come when I’d see the Joker care about someone?  It’s like he went to the Wizard and got a heart!_ Nygma said nothing but started quietly humming “Follow the Yellow Brick Road.”  The inference was not lost on the Joker. 

              _I don’t have time to sit here amusing this quirky asshole,_ he thought, seething.  “She’s mine. I want her back. What do you want?”

              Nygma leaned back in his chair and his eyebrows raised in surprise.  Well, he  _did_ know where she was.  Even the smartest criminals – or the ones who thought they were the smartest – left a computer trail these days.  When word had gotten to him yesterday that the Joker was looking for the information and would do anything to get it, he’d made it his business to do a bit of investigating.  Now, the question is, what did _he_ want since it was obvious he had won the Joker lotto and he could get whatever he wanted in exchange for the information?   The answer to that was, obviously, he wanted what the Joker would hate most to lose.  What he _really_ wanted was the peek into the Joker’s head that the answer would provide.

              “I think I'll take...the green McLaren. You know it’s _much_ more me than you.”  Nygma tittered, watching for the response.

              The Joker growled.  It was a piece of his car collection he particularly liked…but it was only a car.  “I’ll put a _bow_ on it for you...I can use it to hang you if you’re wrong.”

              Nygma smiled.  “Where you were born…so will you end, so says your…friend.” 

              _Where I was?  Fuck._   He spun around. 

              “Ace Chemicals,” he told Jonny. 

* * *

              Harley heard the key in the lock and looked up as Roberto walked in.  He had a bottle of water with him.  _Probably just going to drink it in front of you,_ she thought.  She hadn’t known it was possible to feel this utterly horrible, and tried to remember her medical school training about how long it took to die without water. Three days?  Four?  Was it two days today or three? She really wasn’t sure anymore.

              “Good afternoon, Dr. Quinzel,” he said.  

              She said nothing. Even if she had wanted to, her mouth was no longer capable of producing sounds. 

              “Ah, I forgot,” He walked over and opened the bottle, placing it in front of her so that if she bent down, she could take it in her teeth. Her hands were still chained to the wall and he had no intention of freeing her.

              Harley hesitated for a second. It could be cyanide, it could be anything.  But did it matter now? A fast death was preferable.  She started to drink with difficulty.  It was painful to swallow, like the world’s worst sore throat, and she knew if she drank too fast, she’d throw up and be even more dehydrated so she forced herself to sip from the bottle.  Nothing had ever tasted as good as that water. She swished it around her mouth, ignoring the pain in her cracked lips.  Finally she felt like she might be able to talk, and considered her words as carefully as she could through the fog surrounding her brain.  She gave him her best wide eyed, innocent look.   _He's still a man,_ she thought.   _Maybe I have a chance._

              “If ya were tryin’ to scare me, it worked,” she said weakly, tears filling her eyes.  “I don’t wanta die.  What do you want me to do?”

              Roberto laughed.  “You’re hardly in a condition to seduce me, my dear.”

 _Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,_ she thought.

              “Didn’t _mean_ that.  Ya know I can fight.  I can shoot. An’ no one suspects me. Ya telling me ya couldn’t use someone with my skills?”

              He couldn’t decide if she was lying or not, but either way it didn’t matter, and she was going to die here so he didn’t need to lie to her, either.

              “Twenty years ago, I’d have considered your offer. But it doesn’t matter now,” he told her.  Harley tried to decipher the look on his face.  What was he sad about? His life was going great. _She_ was the one who, as she had predicted to herself many times, wasn’t going to make it to thirty.

              Roberto looked down at her with what almost passed for pity.  “I’m terminally ill, Dr. Quinzel.  I have a month at best. I am an old man who is dying and I want one thing before I go – revenge on the person who stole the last twenty years of my life and left me rotting in a prison cell.”

              “Mr. J.,” Harley whispered, seeing it all too clearly now.

              He nodded.  “And he’s on his way here now, to save you.  Just as I predicted, although I continue to be surprised at how attached he is to you.  It looks like you really got into his head, doctor.  I _am_ curious – did you tell him to kill your stepfather?”

              “No!”  Harley snapped.  “He came up with that all by himself.”

              “As a gift to you, no doubt.  Well, Dr. Quinzel, we have been hard at work the last two days and this entire building is going to go up in a blaze of glory in…” he looked at his watch “Thirty minutes.”  He smiled, watching her face fall as she realized the Joker was heading straight into a trap.  “But cheer up, at least you two will die together, like Romeo and Juliet.  I’ve always been a romantic.”  He laughed and turned on his heel, leaving the room, but she noticed he didn’t lock the door behind him this time.

_Leaving it open for Mr. J to find me.  This is probably the center of the explosions._

              And there was nothing she could do but wait to die.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the Joker back story I promised you...because I've never liked the official back story so here's my version. ;-)

             In the car, he got a text from an anonymous number with a still picture of Harley, time stamped an hour ago.  She looked awful, dark circles under her eyes, hollow cheeks, dull eyes, but at least she was still conscious. 

 _She looks like she’s dying,_ the Joker thought. He had seen that look many times when he was still in Europe.  Dying men, women and children in war-torn countries, countries he moved through unnoticed, back in the days when he looked like everybody else and was only different on the inside. Back in the days when he was still a child on the outside and no one noticed him pass or wondered what he was doing there.

             He never had a childhood. Not after they took him at age nine.  _And not much of one before then_ , he thought.  He thought he had gotten away with it.  Thought no one had figured out he was behind the fire. After all, who would suspect an eight year old?   All the signs pointed to a professional arsonist.  Time had passed, two, then three months. And then one day he was walking home from school and a black van had pulled up alongside him.  He was blindfolded and tied down and thought he had been kidnapped.  Not that he was scared – he knew the second he had the chance, these guys were going to be so, so sorry of their choice of victim. 

             Except the guys worked for the U.S. government, and before Joseph knew what hit him, he was strapped to a chair in a meeting room and some miserable bitch of a woman was explaining his future to him.  She seemed young but had an authority beyond her years and clearly didn’t like him…or anyone.

> “We know exactly what you did.  38 people died.”  Amanda Waller leaned over the table toward him.  “Your family is relieved you’re gone.”
> 
> _That was probably true,_ he thought.  His mom was probably too drunk to notice he was gone, and he always felt like he was bothering his dad by existing. 
> 
> “What do you want?” he asked her.
> 
> She smiled.  “I’m giving you a job. You’ll like it, but you don’t have a choice about it. I’m the only god you know from here on out. I can give you a life but I can also take it away.  Don’t forget it.”

             Waller’s offer had turned out to be pretty appealing, especially to a nine year old boy who had discovered he loved to kill.  They trained him to shoot and sent him all over the world as a sniper.  No one would ever suspect an innocent looking young boy of being a threat. He practically had a cloak of invisibility. 

             As Waller had correctly predicted based upon his previous actions, he was a strategic genius who had little fear, no conscience, and could handle himself alone on a mission better than many of her adult operatives.  He learned to get from place to place unseen; to hitch rides on trains or stow himself away in the cargo compartments of aircraft.  He learned a multitude of languages. He learned to apply theatrical quality makeup; to shade his face in keeping with his surroundings and ensure he never stood out in any way.  Waller told him who to kill and he obliged again and again, basking in the praise she gave him.  She sure seemed to like him a lot better than his parents ever had.  He felt like he just got better and better on every mission; he’d never been caught and he’d never been seriously injured. He felt _invincible._

When he was 17, they sent him to kill Roberto.

             Roberto was the head of a European drug cartel, one of the most powerful on the planet.  He was incredibly wealthy and protected, with security that would put the Secret Service to shame, but Waller had discovered his Achilles heel.  He had grown up poor, in the slums of Rome, and he felt he had some kind of duty to pull other young men out of the poverty he had faced and give them a chance as his _picciotti_.   As careful as he was with other matters, he took it at face value when Joseph showed up, speaking the Romanesco dialect of the ghetto he himself had come out of, and asking for a job. 

             And that was when the world had turned on its end for young Joseph.  In all this time, he had not really questioned his life.  He did as he was told and Waller fed him a constant flow of praise and just enough money to live on but not enough to give him ideas.  He thrived on the adventure and the thrill of the chase.  There had been few days off; no perks; no benefits. He slept in hostels, in the backseats of unlocked cars, in warehouses and garages he broke into.  He was too young to rent a hotel room or buy a car, and they didn’t want him to leave any trace of his presence. They flew him from place to place on private planes, gave him information and cash and sent him out to make another corpse.  Joe had been on continuous missions for the past eight years, all of them successful.  He was frequently reminded that his only alternatives in life were a prison or the nuthouse after what he had done.  And this life was a hell of a lot better than living at home with his asshole father and drunk mother, going to school only to get his ass beat while the teachers turned a blind eye, so who was complaining?  Not him. 

              But when Roberto had welcomed him into his luxurious complex in Rome, Joseph finally saw the life he wanted to lead.  Anything Roberto wanted was his for the taking.  He had the most powerful cars, the most beautiful mistresses, the most elegant suits.  Most of all, he had respect. He didn’t have to rely upon some ill-tempered and demanding bitch on the other end of a cellphone. He was surrounded by praise and power and legions of people to do his bidding.

              He was a _king_ , and being a king was a far greater thing than being a good weapon in someone else’s war.

              Joseph wanted to be a king. He was tired of Waller, tired of orders and threats. He wanted a vacation – preferably with one of Roberto’s beautiful young mistresses, who were his age but looked right through him.  _They only see power,_ he realized.  _Without it, I am invisible_. 

             And so he began to work.  He put off Waller, telling her that he was in the middle of investigating Roberto’s associates through him and that if she let him work, he could bring down far more than this single cartel.  She accepted his reasoning, confident that he would continue to behave as he always had.  Joseph paid attention and identified which of the _picciotti_ were most dissatisfied; most eager for power themselves, most frustrated with the slow pace of their own ascension.  

             It was a simple matter to make things start to go wrong, in small ways.  Roberto never suspected him; he saw Joseph as a younger self and Joseph knew exactly what to say and do to continue to build on that illusion.  Roberto trusted him implicitly and believed him when he said he would do whatever it took to punish the offenders and restore order.

               _The promise given was a necessity of the past: the word broken is a necessity of the present._

             Joseph took care that the glee he felt when planting the seeds of entitlement, greed and anger in Roberto’s soldiers never showed on his face.  He was always controlled and careful in dealing with people, showing only those fake emotions that would benefit him at the moment.  His eyes welled up with tears like a seasoned actor as he stood with Roberto’s family the day they realized his driver, who had worked for him for 22 years, had delivered him straight into the hands of the _Guardia di Finanza_ , along with a long statement of all the things he had seen during his employment. 

             The driver was dead by midnight; a sniper hit.  But they already had his statement under oath and no intention of letting Roberto free.  His grieving family had nothing but gratitude as Joseph stepped into place as the head of the empire and quickly scrambled to keep all the balls in the air; shipments on time and distributors happy.  Roberto had trusted young Joseph so much that he had told him everything.   

             Anyone in the cartel who objected to an 18 year old taking command was dead before sunrise the next day, no matter how they tried to secure themselves. They were up against a force of nature with nine years of experience getting the job done no matter how complicated.  The objections quickly stopped and the survivors accepted Joseph as their new leader.  The fact that he was doing a great job, profits were up and everyone was benefiting did not hurt.  He worked tirelessly, slept little and enjoyed the perks of his new life, including an ever-present stream of beautiful young women who came back for more no matter how callously he treated them.  Power was the greatest of aphrodisiacs.   His scorn for everyone else in the world increased daily. They were weak sheep who followed, bleating, after their leader.  They’d walk off a cliff if he told them to. Sometimes he would set them up to kill themselves, or orchestrate subtle drama that would end in them killing each other, just to break the monotony. 

             Having everything was fun until it was a daily occurrence.  Joseph got bored and started to think about returning to the U.S.  There were scores left to settle, and plenty of money to be made.

             The ring of his cell phone brought the Joker back to the present.  “Yeah?” he snapped.

             “We traced the IP.  She’s in an interior office on the 12th floor.”

             “Five minutes, Boss,”  Jonny said without being asked.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker finally comes face to face with his old nemesis Roberto, as Harley makes a last-ditch effort to free herself.

_Dying with dignity sounds great until you’re the one who’s dying_ , Harley thought. 

                She had resorted to kicking the wall behind her as hard as she could, first one heel and then the other.  Walls broke.  Men punched holes in them all the time – even her lard ass stepfather could manage that during a fight.  Surely she ought to be able to break through with her heel, right?  The chains wouldn’t break but the plaster might, and she had nothing to lose.  She wished she would have thought of it when they first chained her up and she was stronger, but there was nothing to get your adrenaline up like imminent death, either.  Finally, her heel went through and she had a hole to work with. She started hammering at the sides, widening the hole.

                Then she heard it – a rumbling sound, like thunder coming. 

_The explosions were starting._

                How many would it take to bring down a building? She didn’t know if she was up high enough to die from a fall or low enough to be buried under tons of rubble, and she wasn't sure which would be worse.

                The next blast shook the room and suddenly she was flying forward as the wall behind her collapsed.  She landed in a heap against the opposite wall, smashing her wrists painfully against the cuffs.  A cloud of plaster bits and dust rained down on her, but she was already scrambling to her feet.  The cuff had snapped off her left hand and the chain had broken on the right; she still had a cuff around her wrist but she was free.  Harley ran out the door and looked around.  A quick glance out of a window confirmed she was nowhere near ground level.

_Couldn't be as easy as going out a window,_ she thought.  There had to be stairs, somewhere?  She opened doors until she opened one into a large atrium at the center of the building.  Looking down, she saw she was above pools of steaming chemicals.  She could see a door that looked like the main one at the bottom, but as she leaned out to check it out, she heard gunfire.

                Harley hit the ground, trying to figure out where it was coming from but it was quickly drowned out by more explosions.  If she didn’t move quickly, there would be no way left to cross the atrium. As it was, there was only a catwalk that had already taken a couple of hits from bombs in its vicinity. It was blackened by smoke but it looked intact. Who knew if it was even safe, but she didn’t have any alternatives.  She took a deep breath and dashed across the corridor and onto the narrow walk.

 

 

* * *

 

Nygma had gotten a trace on the text messages despite the caller ID block and the Joker knew exactly where Roberto was; the CEO’s office on the 14th floor.  He would get Harley out, but first he was going to confront the son of a bitch who had dared to take what was his.

                 _Should have killed him 20 years ago,_ he thought.  

                The thought that he had taken everything that was Roberto’s never occurred to him as he raced up the stairs, Jonny and several other henchmen fanning out on the main floor to stand guard. But the plant was deathly quiet; it was a Saturday night and no one was around.    

                He wanted to confront Roberto all alone - partially because it was his score to settle, and partially because he didn't want anyone, even Jonny to hear things about his past.  No one knew anything about his past except for Harley and he wanted to keep it that way.  

                Roberto was right where he expected him to be; in the CEO’s chair.  He looked older and thinner but otherwise unchanged.  It was almost impossible to believe he had been in a prison for twenty years. He was also unguarded, which was strange to the point of being unsettling. The lack of backup didn't sit right with the Joker. Something wasn't right here.  

                “Joseph. It’s been a long time.”  Roberto leaned back in the comfortable chair, looking far too relaxed for the situation, which also made his rival wary.  

                “Not long enough,” the Joker responded, grinning at his enemy with a bravado he didn't feel.  “If you wanted a fair fight, I wasn’t hard to find. This entire display was unnecessary and pretentious. I expected better.”  He snorted derisively.

                “I _wanted_ to settle the score…although I thought that would be tough against a man who only loves himself.  How could you ever understand what you took from me?  It wasn’t the money, Joseph. It was the _betrayal_.  It was taking me away from my wife, my children, stealing time and memories I can _never_ get back.”  The older man smashed his fist down on the desk, the memories making him angrier than he could control.  He took a deep breath and collected himself.  “Then I got here and I got a _most_ pleasant surprise.  I couldn’t quite decide if I wanted to kill you both or just kill her and leave you to suffer.”

                “Assuming you got the upper hand between us which…hasn’t even happened before, has it now?”  The Joker cackled. “And I hate to tell you, but you don’t look like you’re up for much of a fight these days, old man."

                “Oh, on the contrary. I’ve never been more powerful as an opponent,” Roberto told him.  “I don’t have to fear death now. I know it’s coming for me. But I can decide how I go out, and I have.”

                A round of explosions rocked the far side of the building, shaking the floor. 

                _What the-_

“There are 200 separate charges.  No central way to disable and…” Roberto glanced down at his Rolex.  “Less than four minutes before the last of them blow.” 

                _He’s lying. He wouldn’t be sitting there,_ the Joker thought.

                Roberto accurately read the look on his face and smiled.  He'd never thought he would enjoy his own death this much.  “I was dying anyway.  Now...I’m not dying alone.”

                The Joker whipped out his pistol and shot his rival right between the eyes.  He was enraged that he couldn’t do worse but there wasn’t time; he was out the door before Roberto had even toppled from his chair and running down the stairs to the 12th floor, but when he got to the office it was empty. The blown out wall and remnants of chains showed him where she had been but there was no blood. She had gotten free and was out there somewhere.  He had all of three minutes to find her. 

                _Where you were born, so will you end._

                He pushed the thought out of his head and didn’t even slow down when the explosions started again.  She had to have gone for the stairs in the central atrium and he headed that way through the smoke, toward the newest series of blasts. 

* * *

 

 

Harley saw Roberto's henchman on the lower walkway a moment before he fired at her.  She instinctively dodged under the line of fire, but she slipped, her ankle twisting painfully and snapping as she lost her balance and fell off the edge of the walk. Harley grabbed blindly and caught the underside. The grate of the catwalk floor cut painfully into her fingers but she hung on.  Her shooter made an incoherent noise as he was shot and fell into the atrium toward the floor below.   

                _J must be here_ , she thought, and tried to call out but she couldn't manage more than a hoarse squeak.  The thick smoke in the building and the dust had stolen what was left of her voice.

She hung, desperately trying to pull herself up.  Any other day, she could have done it easily but she was too weak after the days without food and water.  Her leg was numb and pain was shooting down her arms into her shoulders. Harley looked down for a second. It was dizzying.  She wasn’t even over a chemical vat; if she fell she was going straight to the concrete floor. 

Harley started to pull herself, hand over hand, closer to the wall. The damaged catwalk creaked every time she moved and she felt like it would snap in a moment and send her hurtling all the way down to her death.  Her palms cramped and she forced herself to ignore the pain and hang on.

_Well, this is such an improvement from having to suffer through those awful Sunday brunches with Ben’s family!  I mean, you’re going to fall to your death or get shot, but at least you’re not bored, huh?_

For once, she welcomed the sarcastic voice of Logical Harleen and was glad she had reappeared. Logical Harleen would make her angry and anger was what she needed right now to keep going. 

                


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R.I.P. Ace Chemicals...and whoever was left in it when it blew.

          Harley was almost to the wall when it happened.  Just as she had predicted, her body weight caused the dangling catwalk to give way on one side and it crashed back against the wall.  She wrapped an arm around what remained of the walkway to try to hang on.  Her hands were numb and bleeding from the grate and her grip strength almost gone thanks to the constant cramping of her dehydrated muscles. The ledge hit the wall and bounced and her arm was crushed painfully against the wall but she gritted her teeth and refused to let go. She reached up with her free hand to try to find something more solid to hang on to and felt a strong hand snap around her wrist in a painful grip. 

          She looked up to see green hair.

          “Give me your other hand,” he barked, and she complied.  He was upside down, hanging with his knees hooked around the catwalk above them like an acrobat.  She gave him her other hand, and pushed herself upwards with the toe of her good foot on what remained of the ledge.  Harley heard him grunt with the effort as he pulled them up to the next level.  She would have helped but he would not let go of her wrists until they collapsed in a heap on the walkway, both breathing hard. There was so much blood on both of them, too much to have come from her hands, and she realized he had a silver piece of metal sticking out of his shoulder from one of the explosions.

          Harley had ended up on his lap and he hugged her, crushing her to him in a painful grip that left no doubt in her mind how scared he had been to lose her.  Tears filled her eyes at the thought. 

          A fresh round of explosions snapped them out of it and the Joker shot to his feet, pulling Harley with him, but her ankle collapsed when she tried to stand on it.  She realized with horror that she wasn’t going to be able to walk and it was still a long way to that door far below.

          “I broke my ankle,” Harley told him. “Just go!  This is going to blow.”  There were holes in the wall and the ceiling now, plaster and paint raining down.  She didn’t know how much damage a building could take before it collapsed but it seemed like that was imminent. 

          He growled, “God, you’re a pain in the ass.”  He turned around. “Climb up and _hang on_.” 

          Harley looked skeptical but she did as she was told.  “What are you-“

          “Shut up, hold your breath and hang on _tight_.”

          She buried her face in his hair and locked her fingers together across his chest. 

          And then he _jumped._ He dived right off the walkway, as if he could _fly_ or something, with Harley clinging to him for dear life and positive that they were going to die. 

          It was insane. A parachute drop with no parachute.  Harley opened her eyes a sliver to see the floors rushing by, impossibly fast. 

          The last of the ceiling of the building blew up and away as they hit the chemical pool.  Harley had forgotten about holding her breath and she choked as her mouth and nose filled with the multicolored fluid.  It smelled like sulphur and she couldn’t breathe.  They both went completely under with the force of the impact and she felt her skin begin to tingle all over as the chemicals coated her body.  She was floating and he was pulling her by the hand and he was pulling her out and she broke the surface and they were both coughing and there wasn’t any air, just smoke, and then he was swinging her up into his arms as he started to run for the door.  The smoke was so dense she could barely see it, but it was there.  Then they were through the door into the cold night.

          The Joker ran far enough away from the building that they’d be safe if the whole thing went up, before he stopped and let Harley down.  They both collapsed into the snow, coughing and trying to get their breath back.  She looked up at the stars, not quite believing she wasn’t dead.  She was freezing cold and wet and her body was stinging all over and it was hard to think of a muscle that didn’t ache and her ankle was throbbing and this still felt like the best night of her life. 

 _He loves me,_ she thought gleefully.  _It doesn’t matter what he says or doesn’t say._

          He was already on the phone, telling Jonny where they were.  She watched as he ended the call and stuck his phone back into his pocket.  He looked down at her, lying in the snow, her wet hair everywhere, silver in the moonlight with the color stripped from it, his blood on her face and neck, and thought that she had never looked more beautiful.  Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he leaned over and kissed her.

          Harley knew better than to talk, so she just kissed him back, feeling the hot rush of air pass her as the building exploded into a million pieces. 

* * *

 

**EPILOGUE**

          Harley had actually convinced the Joker to stay home a few days and rest; while his shoulder had been cleaned and stitched up, he _had_ lost a fair bit of blood and she was still recovering from the days she’d spent chained up without food or water.  Not to mention that lovely dip in God-only-knows-what which had felt like a chemical peel over her entire body and apparently turned her into a platinum blonde on top of removing a tan she had paid good money for.  

          J was grumbling about getting nothing done but that was hardly the case; he was on his phone nonstop as usual.  She wasn’t saying a word – he might be distracted but he was home, in bed, with her, and she was learning to choose her battles.  She finished eating and laid back down, snuggling into him and draping a hand casually over his thigh under the covers.  She stroked the inside of his thigh as softly as she could.  He twitched involuntarily and gave her a look, but she just smiled. 

          He finally ended the call and gave her a look of mock irritation.  “Are you trying to distract me again?”

          She nodded and gave him a sweet smile.  “Uh-huh.  How am I doing?”

          “I’d get a lot more work done if I had let you fall, you know that?”

          “That’s true,” Harley ducked under the covers and ran her tongue across his lower stomach.  She heard him suck in his breath and it made her smile.  _It doesn’t matter what you say,_ she thought. _You’re mine and you know it._ She slowly licked a path up to his chest, giving him her very best wide-eyed innocent look, her blue eyes sparkling, and she saw it in his eyes the second he caved.  He grabbed the back of her neck and flipped her over with a growl from deep in his throat.

          “You are an absolute monster.  Daddy’s little monster.  I’m going to have that tattooed on your chest as a warning to others.”

          “Okay, Daddy! Whatever makes you happy,” she agreed.  He was kissing her neck now, making her shiver with pleasure.

          “You make me happy,” he murmured.  “And if you ever repeat that outside of this room, I will shoot you between the eyes.”   

          She giggled.  “I love you too, Puddin.”

          He rolled his eyes at that but it didn’t bother her anymore.   

**Author's Note:**

> The [Chapter One shoes](https://www.gucci.com/us/en/pr/women/womens-shoes/womens-pumps/leather-snake-pump-p-453498C9D101186?gclid=CK2Cra373tECFQtZhgodF38GVA) are real. I do a lot of virtual shopping while brainstorming about Mr. J and Harley’s life of excess, because I’m not jealous at all as I sit here in the best Wal-Mart has to offer.


End file.
